sparky and I have a heart to heart

sparky and I have a heart to heart

"you always try to be so stoic when people are lookin', mr. razor, don't you?"

"look, sparky, old boy, I am just trying to be strong for you,

I figure scott would want it that way."

"I am not as old as you, old boy, and I call em like I see em, tough guy, so

if you gotta let it out, just let it out, is all I'm sayin', mr. razor."

"(sniff), really, it's just a head cold sparky...and please, not so formal,

razor is just fine."

"well, scott always said you were a lil' tightly wound...a lil' edgy, if you will..."

"all right, sparky, call me whatever the fuck you want...jeez...you know, I like dogs,

more than I like people...I was a raised in a kennel...out in berdoo...so you can drop

the passive-aggressive thing...I probably talked more to dogs than people, if you

time it out...in my lifetime, I mean..."

"in a kennel? what on earth could those dogs have done to deserve that kind of treatment?"

"well, I was...huh? nevermind...I just wanted to be supportive...you know...throw a stick if you

wanted...maybe a frisbee...I am not so good with frisbees, tho...used em' more for rollin' than throwin' back in tha day, if you knowaddimean?...haha"...

"really? you are amusing to yourself, at the very least, I suppose...anyway, I gotta go...I can smell something

on the wind...um, off in the distance, I mean...where humans can't, soooo....yeah, keep your chin up

and all...don't whistle for me, I'll howl for you and all that"..."arf,arf...arf......arf..........arf"............

"SPARKY!?!?! Sparky!? dammit, come back...ohh...I hate these moments...friends passing on and not sure what to say to anybody anymore...wait...is that? he's coming back...good ole sparky...come here, boy!"

"woof, woooof" pant pant pant "i said "wooof"... pant pant pant

"you sound different, sparky...that run really got the better of you...you gonna be ok?"

"i could use some water...it is hot in here...um, around here"...

"sure, here you go...hey, if you want, I could be your temporary master for awhile, I wouldn't mind"...

"master? are you kiddin' me? I know how to operate an oxygen tank...I am nobody's chump...uh...I mean...look...I might have meant to say something else...I mean"...

"hey, you are not sparky...that is a dog suit...and not a good one at that...god, my eyes are getting bad...come here a second and let me...don't fight me...ow, shit...how did you get a dog suit with claws so sharp? dammit...hold still...holy sheep dip!!! MICHELLE BACHMANN? what the hell are you doing here?'

"(sniffle sniffle) You have found me out, razor...I have secretly been in love with scott wannberg for so long now...I I I ...I just can't believe he is gone...first Rick Perry and now this...I can't take it...I wanted to reach out to scott so many times...no one knows me like he does...I see myself in every one of his works of art in writing"...

"well, he did write about you often, is that what you mean?"

"yes, he was critical on a personal level, but he just really had me down...I mean...I don't even think the little jewish carpenter in the sky knows me as well as scott wannberg does...I wanna be his dog...I wanna be his dog...I can't take it"...

"whoa, off the dickie's, mrs. bachmann...get down...you are one surly bitch, mam...DOWN NOW!!!"

"oh, I'm so sorry...my bladder is so tiny these days...and texas is so big...not as big as scott's heart, tho...he made me wanna forget that stumpjumper from taxas...forget the whole teabagged last one of those corn fed constituents in Iowa...he made me wanna be a L L"...(crumpled in sobs)

"an LL? what the hell is an LL?"

"oh, don't make me say it...a  a  a..a LIBERAL LUTHERAN...oh god...oh god....please...I don't wanna live...please...I wanna be scott's dog...I wanna be sparky..."

"hey, where is sparky, anyway?"

...on a spiral trail to a worldy place where there are no dogs or masters, just eternal conversations that go round and round where every character actor and actress that ever trickled into the kodachrome and technicolor borealis is remembered as far more valuable than the leading man...this is where the constituency of loving fairness dwells...that is where sparky and scott are now...watching a classic movie channel that never ends with tv westerns in between every movie...always going back and forth with wisdom and insight that is just a lil' further off into the future...not so far that you don't notice as long as you never forget that there is where you need to be...right now, so get there before ya'll come back now, ya hear?...

For Scott Wannberg

Scott


every time
I find that
dark side
of the road
and I think
I'm done for
this is going
to be it
sputtering
my last
tears and
breathing
my last
words
it's almost
done for good

then, like magic
your headlights
appear in the
distance
between us

they pull over
onto the shoulder
where I am certain
I am dying my last
lyrical death in this
maddening world
of miscommunications
parading as near misses

all I can hear in that
final moment is the sound
of the crackling gravel words
as they are getting closer

the headlights shine brighter

the crackling gravel words
under your tires
sing me the song

of my salvation
as I return to
the blacktop

riding free
once more

...World...

World

sometimes the world cracks open

like it is gonna fall all apart

& you get real sad inside of

yourself

because you

are afraid of that

more than anything else

so sad that you feel like

you are not gonna make it

& you hold on anyway

real tight

because

it is

after all

still a world

most likely

the only one

you will ever get

to hold onto

...smoke...

smoke

slowly, coming into focus

curled wisps roll up

clouds pour forth

looking like pillows

choking off life

covering the world

touching the landscape

darkening the skies

hanging in the air

like a swarm of phantom locusts

looking for the lungs of sweet innocence

finding lungs of corrupt diversion easily

smothering love with satisfaction

delivering narcotic release

twisting the duality of dragons in flight

slowly metamorphosizing the hearts of billions

covering the world

blackening the eyelids

soon this reality

will be the impression

of a charcoal relief

this empty embrace

is for the eternal

if you seek it out

on the blinding path

you might find the fire

at your feet

before the flame

is you

Picasso Doesn't Do Much For Her

Picasso Doesn't Do Much For Her

it is from across rooms of perspective

inside twisted chambers of the mind

her face like spoon fed butter scoops

dripping past eyes elongating into noses

her body like turning angles becoming blocks

building out the fantasy play of light upon shadow

her angular teeth grip a thorny rose that pricks her

head bent upon squared neck dropping to buttocks

separating cleavage from fish and beach with ball in play

with ball in motion as dance is kinetic to abuse of love

of self of indulgence of grandiose scale of cognac

of absinthe of blue moods against green vengeance

with disfigured fairy tales morphing into lost vistas

never seen by the eye of an old woman's cataracts

hardly felt inside the bronzed goat vaginal walls

as war rages outside on the inside all the time

it is injustice, all of it, from the fly in the ointment

to the napalm dropped on mama and babe innocence

the contorted eyes of terror open mouthed kissing

death as if embrace were only meant for mistress

as wives got the loneliness of it all in cascades

of flamenco bulls running into matadors on bloody hooved sand

written off as salon after salon becomes meaningless pedigree

as if the wisdom of castles had left anything less than magic

for the love, for the woman, for the light etching contrast

into prism into lust into temper into explosion into work

it all falls away into emotions left like a high water mark

into a lifetime of perspective reaching out for a better

point of view against an overrated misunderstanding

these balls are made of brass to last a little longer

not really so much beautiful as useful to angels

gone blind and now they feel their way back to heaven

alone, how every saint must feel in silent visage

waiting for it all to come back together again

just lay down naked on the bed in the

morning sunlight as it comes through

the bedroom window

I want to see you for who you are

less clearly

The Meth Lab: Down On The Tarmac by: A. Razor

The Meth Lab: Down On The Tarmac by: A. Razor

Newer Poets XVI: A Reading - Event - Library Foundation of Los Angeles

Newer Poets XVI: A Reading - Event - Library Foundation of Los Angeles