More Plain Heathen Mischief
How it works is like this:
A fossilized thumb sprouts two sleepy hollows or the prized
clay vase is really an ayatollah disguised as an excavation
site. Rocks grow-up to be just another fairly common rash.
tissue is inadvertently exposed around the umbilical cord
of polluted metaphysics causing the whole world to end up
listening to Motown Music. Or in the alternative scenario,
the color white learns how to bugaloo down Broadway
wearing only a bunch of bananas for a skirt. A crowd gathers
at the intersection. No one is arrested. A misdemeanor is
something you wash using rubber gloves. Or every branch
in the family tree turns out to be kindling wood with the
code-name "genealogy". No one even considers blackbirds
baked in a pie. Cherry is the flavor most soda-drinkers prefer
and even you can develop spine enough to march into the boss'
office without knocking and demand a raise. In most cases,
Seattle re-surfaces a few months later as a hundred vacation-
bound Germans destined for Havana. There's wood piled
along the stream but no ribs served in the cafeteria. Or the luft
balloons are multi-colored and always willing to fly. So baby
what are you waiting for? Let your fingers do the walking
through the yellow pages. And don't forget to bring along
enough chump change to tip the executioner.
"The Messiah Code" List
If I remember correctly, here is a list of those things missing:
-Rainwater pooled in the awning of a french bistro.
-Trees growing on only one side of the seven hills.
-A photograph of the Nile that's aged to sepia over the years.
-One intricately tended bonsais in a koi-patterned planter.
-Charts & graphs illustrating the fault line under Jakarta.
-The massive overgrowth of a Brazilian rain forest.
-Every bat that lays claim to Transylvania's caves.
-Nymphal snake skin of an Indian cobra after several molts.
-And that single lungful of breath that began this world.
Lip-Syncing A Vague Terrain
By the time she returns from the restroom I've been ayatollah-ed
twice. Or any gravedigger for that matter, entwined with sawdust
on the floor and the faint smell of turpentine around the magician's
wand or best drank at room temperature. The stowaway hides
between the turkey stuffing or low-life a voice-over using french
sub-titles. The bar seats are all occupied by ghosts. An ocean parks
in the driveway of Italy at a beach that was once merely stunted
pebbles or could successfully manage to evade capture. Either way,
all the money that was originally ear-marked for more exhaust fumes
now resolves to live in a play or becomes a scene already revised
in the script. Or just to curse the sea she captained, I later admit,
once I'm safe on dry land...
deliberately allowing my speech to accept the award.
These poems are currently online at: www.laikapoetryreview.blogspot.com/2006/11/laika-issue-three-contents.html
Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.