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| photograph by lenore goodell |
And tacky tacks
commingle your double
time in despair pair
off
you can hear me read this here . . .
Sex creates
fun
fun creates
parties
parties
create alcohol
alcohol
creates dope
women create
men
men create
half a dozen killing enterprises
made in New
Mexico
tragedy
crosses the border
everything
gets reversed
in the car
of the future
the home of
the triple car garage
the spoiled
brat of the past produces
spores of
unbreathable future
time travels
backward and ends in
the Pope’s
lap
the poet’s
rap.
Anthrax
Avenue ends
where the
Batmobile dead-ends
and has the
last laugh in Carlsbad
where the
radioactive wastes burp & throw up
hungover
from a national binge.
We dropped
our guard now everybody
hates our
backyard.
That’s what
you get for sucking the sucker
of secrecy.
Trying
forever to pull the wool over
the sheep’s eyes.
We are the
fat lambs led to slaughter
by a
government that doesn’t know where it’s going
except to
the decimation of the universe.
namely the
best of all countries eliminating nature
a one
species world, namely ours,
with robot
greenhouses and cattle ranches
roaches and
ants and aphids we try to murder.
Yes the
problem is a preponderance of egos.
Human humans
that are not too human.
We’ve made
lots of progress the “we” tells me from
the pulpit
and yet it’s
true: Mozart, Anna and the King of Siam
Mahatma
Gandhi, Buddha love and compassion
yes,
tolerance.
Tolerance
and democracy.
Back to the
Earth, my only home
as I return
home.
Home again
away from home.
That home of
hate is not my home
but a
fundamental cult
of backended
young male assholes.
Breathe
deeply. Garden
practice
husbandry
follow the
stars.
Act like you
got sense.
Disorganize.
Follow your
dream if that includes
the world of
Jane Goodall
Woody
Guthrie the great cathedrals
and the
kivas
the natural
order of recovery
day by day
from the
drunken disaster of greed
building
houses so big no chicken would live in them
light
lightly.
Here with
humility to shape me
if I let it.
Let it out
in the music
of communicated life
to the jazz
beat of the heart
the hearing
of the soul
the giant
helping of helping others
for
dessert.
larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 18Oct2001
this is from Oh Cabezon, poems from 2001, over 10 years old . . . remember anthrax being sent in letters to Tom Brokaw & Sen. Dashiell, but then that's only the time the poem is written in, and a month after 9/11 . . . the poem touches on New Mexico, the WIPP project, Los Alamos, drunkenness & greed, gardening, compassion . . . (heck that's about all I write about) . . .