The Unseen World
The poems in The Unseen World wander just below the surface under water and under the moon, beneath fields and cities, love and family. They bump into dead Spanish poets in bus station gift shops, take coffee with Soren Kierkegaard at IKEA and spot Henry Miller emerging from 14th Street subway. Cameo appearances include two bullfighters, a bear out shopping a pair of pants, a dental assistant’s ovaries and a voting pig named Victoria. All the while the action is being filmed by Robert Frank from his perch in Cape Breton to a sound track of the distant barking of dogs.
She lays eleven mottled brown eggs
under a bush in the busy park,
her mate lays one black sideways eye on them,
cocks his iridescent head and flies off north.
one moonless night,
she tumbles off-springs
into stone-rimmed pond,
too young to fly
they paddle close
she will not leave them.
Brindled like them,
she waits and watches,
keeps dangerous gulls at bay,
counts them with her orange beak,
I count them too
and think of poems I’ve made
and keep locked away in a drawer.
Cold coyote howl-dawn
High desert Arizona
I-40 semis swerving
Plump sleek sexy Jenny-Lou
Asleep back home in Tennessee
And me with Kerouac on CD
Dreaming down old meteor crater,
Petrified forest, ghost buffalo
America New World Promise Paradise
So sweet, so broke
O Jack O Jack O
Beatific Bodhisattva wise-angel face
Haikus pouring off like milk
White light inner delight sphere music
Blessing form, inside torn
Froggy-Frenchy old Lowell Mass
Old Quebec wolf river
God visioned catholic loving
O Jack O Jack O
Frisco worn down dirty bar bash
Night hammer punch-out
Black silk-wet street shroud
Slouch-hat brown-bagged men
Nightmaring under Bowery-busted bridges
Train sound music
BOP, DE-BOP, BOP, DE, REBOP, DE-BOP
Dream shaper, pied piper piss-up
Queer-twisted, planed down, blown-up,
Sublime, word-wringer, worry-warrior
Your songs, Jack
Jesus Jack, heart go pitter-pat
How you do that, Jack?
Who are we, Jack?
And who the hell are you, Jack?
Why you go down dead?
Why you go down dead, you bastard?
Why you leave us hummin’, singin’, screamin’, joy-seekin’?
Why you put heaven in age-beaten, pee-pee pant,
Life-drifted street face?
Why you go down dead, Jack?
What we do from now ’til we,
You know, Jack,