Odd Poetry



These are the poems that don't really have a 
catagory.



SEATTLE SONNET
 
SLUMLORD
 
THREE TRIPS IN SOPHIE, 
   ART CAR EXTODANAIRE 
 
WAIT
 
FEAR OF FALLING
 






SEATTLE SONNET 
I dreamed of you and Seattle last night.
Capital Hill called to me, Queen Anne admonished me,
"You've been gone too long."
Joyriding down Pike without the breaks on, 

I smell the pungent odor of patchouli, the reek of thrown fish, 
And the sticky sweet smell of baklava that mixes perfectly 
With the hawkers' cries.  Small silver bells on Afghani beaded belts 
Tinkle softly as my hands slip and slide through sensuous mountains 

Of silk scarves in that little hole-in-the-wall shop.  We dance down 
Broadway on numbered bronze footsteps imbedded in concrete as if 
To mark the passing of Fred and Ginger's Technicolor ghosts, While a 
six foot two dragqueen in high heels and feathers serenades us like Billie Holiday.

    I wake to bitter Boise snow and begin to wonder how 
    Much it will cost to get to Oz without my slippers on.

     
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SLUMLORD
My front door's falling apart,
My backdoor's nailed shut.
The doorknob's fallen off twice
And the landlord has spent more trying to 
Save money by fixing the old door
Then a new door would've cost.
Now it doesn't want to lock 
And when it does I can't get back in.
The veneer on this hollow core 
Piece of crap splits and peels like 
A dried up mud puddle every summer.
And I have to paint it
With what ever I have 
Just to keep it together 
Screaming flamingo pink,
Slothful green,
Baby shit yellow,
Teenybopper blue, 
Lead paint orange,
And a Petulant purple.

When I move I'm gluing it shut 
 

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***This is a true-story/poem about a wildly painted hippy car I use to have.
I miss that car SO much

THREE TRIPS IN SOPHIE, 
   ART CAR EXTODANAIRE 

TRIP I

Sweet steel rainbow rolling 'cross country
On retread tires and seven cups of coffee 
Bells sing out little prayers as they hang 
From the cracked rear view
Safety safety
Oh don't hit that pole
Safety safety

Sage goddess and a random storm of colors
Cover your once golden hood 
I laugh and sing as the Washington
Rain fails to wash away my masterpiece
It steams away from the heat of your engine
In vaporous clouds every time we stop 

Bumper stickers proclaim peace and
Condemn the dominant paradigm while  
Vinyl butterflies try to peal off 
The window in a futile attempt to fly 

Seattle sunset adorns the driver's door
Painted while sitting on a busy street corner 
On Capitol Hill in front of the Pink Zone
Where bronze dance steps wait 
For queer punks in day-glow ball gowns to
Trip the light fantastic while the panhandlers
Beg change to pay for their next java fix 

TRIP II

Hands of lovers, dreamers, hitchers and friends
Dipped in mottled paint caress the roof
Like children's finger paintings taped on the fridge door.

We stop in the desert half way to Winnemucca                     
And dance on highway 95 to the howls and                       
Cries of Janis and the cold desert wind                                  
Joking about the antiseptic tang of sagebrush 
Surrounded by miles of nothing but soft hills
And the joy of freedom while our antics
Scare the yuppies as they speed past us                                                       
On their way to Reno to gamble away 
Their daily boredom on the cha-ching of dollar slots 
And free vodka shots 

TRIP III

Cops in every state stop us 
Just to see who would drive 
A mobile art gallery like you
They smile when they see that my hair
Matches your hubcaps and ask me if 
The pink will wash out anytime soon
 
Little shiny yellow and glittering pink
Fish swim on metal
Between purple and green 
Impasto saguaro cactus
From your passenger door 
To your gas cap making children giggle

We laugh and hum from here to Galveston
As Texas cowboys and Dallas 
Businessmen point and grin 
As you and I break the monotony of
Their three martini lunches and Houston
Storm days as the rain turns everything on 
The 610 the color of gray sorrow
Except for Sophie and me
   
 
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WAIT

Knock lightly,
Please.
Chances are I'm not here
And the cats are sleeping.

Knock softly,
Please.
The doorbell has never worked
And the door is falling apart.

Or don't knock,
OK?
Just sit on the step until
I get home or come out.


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FEAR OF FALLING

You ask me if I am afraid to fly
     to try
          to throw myself into the wind
to fling myself from the wall
     to dance the razors edge 
You ask me if I am afraid to fly
      No I do not fear the heights
I do not need sweet earth beneath my feet
I will dance the wind that cuts deeper then any blade
     But I will not face that wall
the one I built around my heart
But give me a chance and I will sink my fingers in 
       and pull your walls down
I'll rip
I'll tear
       I'll rend
to find the you deep inside
and you will thank me tonight
but what about tomorrow 
       will you thank me for pulling you out into the light
            and throwing you to the wind
No I am not afraid to fly
         are you afraid to try 
You tell me no 
     "I am afraid to fall"
is that all
       falling is the easy part
But landing is a bitch



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