Saturday, October 21, 2006

Poem in need of help, or I left Goldwater

When I got to that town
I found me a home
Glad though I found
the twilight zone

Not a horrible one
It cheered a late bloomer
An offbeat episode
With droll black humor

In a halfway house
Stuck halfway
The sun in the morning
was a big red flame

In the land of trees
where there are no leaves
trucks and mystics
and misfit knees

The tie-dyed streets
All looked inviting
I wore some shades
To adjust the lighting

Wandered like a sailor
with a self-distain
I left Goldwater
for the golden plain.

The heater I had
would freeze up and die
the girls down that way
walked streets on the side

People half-smiled
Couldn't figure their MO
When I started to talk
Their heels turned to go

the moon was a sliver
the stars were a wonder
Half-standing, half-sleeping
I heard Freddy Fender

Piensa en mi
think of me in my sorrow
Like a log flat floating
Or a bishop with his bowwow

the caffeine and nicotine
Were like rich vicuna
they’d all fall off their stools
and I’d split for Fortuna.


So this guy it seems to me is going from town to town til he gets where he’s going. I said to my self well maybe don’t specify a number of North Pacific towns and if effect trash them all as strange somewhat unpleasant places. So I defacto changed the name of Carlotta to Goldwater. Jimmy Rogers [Chicago Bound] and Dylan’s new one [If It Keeps On Raining] have been on my turntable. And Freddy Fender just died. I think now this piece has almost a meter, is rough-yeah, but the scene is set .. so throw in some more guff. I dont think I used everything we had garnered together up to this point but it’s still there to use…And yeah I change things..but they could get changed back…whadya think? .. How about some more? Just dream! This thing does some conjuring for me. It’s a stew, let me know how you’d do it here there overall. To me it recalls about a trip Dave and me took to N.Calif. to see Jeff and Paul. Ah, I am going to Las Vegas on Nov 5…so I sure am not thinking of this going further than that. Altogether now: Muse! Let us prove Hugh Otten’s or Sister Mary Berry’s literary efforts could come to real strange frutition! Hamlet is calling!

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