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Let's go crazy.



(fade in

     shaved-headed Texan girl
     with the piercing blue eyes


fade out)

* * * * *

It would have been tragic
like July lightning storms
tragic like car bombs
exploding past our lips
the way foxglove stops
your heart (and it did)
and tragic I think I could
have lived with this once.

* * * * *

Dear Buddha,
please, oh please
let the scents dirty
dance their way to my
nose, an anticipation.

(fade in

     darkness slowly gaining a reddish tint;
     we hear a click
     then a sigh

fade out)

* * * * *

Dear Vishnu,
Florida on my
mind. Briny scent
of saltmarshes
amarylis purple phallic almost
almost ready to explode
waxy a prettier cattail
making sense of the beeps behind
the lawn's old growth
the tri-section garage

one part toolshed slash haunted
bathroom doesn't work
a toilet for spiders
center part storage full of baby items plastic
bins and periphery
last the workshop old books
sawdust palmetto bugs cracking
dry shells and stinking wings
blueprints in my father-in-law's architect handwriting
ps and ds and as unmistakable as prayers

recollections of swimming in you
like swimming in floridan coldsprings
manatees fat under our bellies
wide-eyed juncos and blue cranes
meh meh meh of frogs filling the space with sound

at night
haunting howling loons cry
swimming in each other
our bodies a ghost town
but sincere

a couple of lust-filled
dead-eyed juncos

* * * * *

Woody's       Liquors       Pizza
some snowstorm
drowning in wormwood

"Excuse me amigo!
a green bridge?"

(he took off on his bicycle.)
some snowstorm.

Home now
this house
is death row
bottles of beer
what are you waiting for?
O Canada My Canada
somethings with silverwings
shushing hushing tiptoe noise
mustn't wake terrible bedmates
almost live stonefaced carvings
build up the wood tear it down
believe the non-believers
traintracks arumble
electrified live
revere copper
move over


* * * * *

She gets naked for a different
point of view, icicles falling
a glittering crash some zildjian
cymbals ride ride ride crash
in four-four time, nothing
special lingering just the same
clothes are falling, daylight
falling, opossum waddling
south to north eking a living
of scraps a thanksgiving
feast for one maybe babies
washington apple under snow
phlox waiting for bloom
green sparkly fingernails
holding a lighter one hand
a cigarette other hand
faraway roads meet
at the end of perspective
on the table chicken pot pie
a heart carved into it
it means it's love, love
we stop to eat it naked
dear buddha we thank you
for more than the thrill
of lumps in our throats
and distended bellies
go now, sweet massacre
go dredge your tears
it's been miles of walks
and miles of years.

(fade in

     banks of the Charles
     waterwashed colors seen on rowboats
     a shadow underwater
     yellow sunken rowboat
     glare of a foghorn bleating for
     5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1

fade out)

* * * * *

In those Maine woods
lovely dark and deep
there is no cure for ticks

breakup season's over
seven new planets smile
light years away

we drink at the bar
gansetts and tecates
legs attracting legs

ever so hot damn! close
feel rain on our skin wet
taste sun on each's lips hot

see smoke on the breezeway
lips so hot damn! close
that first kiss-

(that was after our legs
finally crossed
the ever-so-
barrier phase
and oh! hot damn!)

that kiss.

* * * * *

Finding old letters
(which are burned
and ephemera in dresser
drawers, figments dancing
wearing tattered ballet shoes

a black and white childhood
dreams and skeletons
wishes and greys
faraway anatomies
wondering which way was west
which way the sun wanted to set

beliefs contradicting
every sting of wasp
entire oceans of fish
cuttings of leaves from
various trees
oil paintings aflame
tarmac spawning

our bodiless youth
frenetic, frenetic
seasonal disorders
sometimes penniless
copper under the tarmac
moonlight never touches.

* * * * *

Marble beds and
marbled meat
asking about the mouthfeel

and I find inside you
bodies, viscera, a curve
the salt of the seas
rank and file movement
thousands of ants working
as one,
as one.

Compasses drawing circles,
compasses facing north northwest,
my pocket, my last ten dollars
heart drawn on the bill
brash soliloquies
brass bulls, tying red strings
around the children's wrists
throwing chicken guts
on the roof
pouring boiling water on the threshold
by demons be driven.

* * * * *

Dear Buddha, I only want one thing
that's sacred. I ask this thinking
of her, her eyes, while thinking of how light 
shines through prisms, apple blossoms, 
Stolichnaya bottles, stained glass her eyes.

Here we are, dog barks punching the air,
both swollen,
quenched, doggerel.

Outside the open window
petals spread blooming pink
inside, nectar and pollen,
the perfect place to find honey.
Judas Priest! we say sink swaths
of honeycomb between those thighs, 
libran and aquarian stars aligned,
I suppose, with a spritz of vermouth.

* * * * *

All (you can
do     is cry
   all you       can do is cry

all you          .
                     can do is cry
     all you    can do

is cry

  you can do is cry

for your son.

* * * * *

i           have found           the psychopomp

* * * * *

Waterbugs skitting the surface of a lake
sunfish leaping spraying sedimenty
lake odors inside wooden oak barrels
aged like fine wine.

Yellow dance breath of fire
of Julius Caesar
eleven loaves of sourdough
for every Roman
yellow dance arabesque
soylent green for mayflys
when it isn't yet May.

Milfoil choking the snakes,
the snappers, shells propellor-
scarred cameras don't lie.

* * * * *

lime juice — the summer between her legs

* * * * *

One too many solar eclipses -
staring at sunspots is the same
as staring at solar flares,
Mercury in retrograde,
Jupiter's great red spot,
collisions in the Kuiper belt,
Oort cloud manifestations,
a piebald Laniakea,
transcendental meditation,
materials in the spirit world,
paramilitary exercises,
muthafuckin' snakes on muthafuckin' planes,
there's plovers in them thar hills(!),
Jock Jams spinning on vinyl
(gaze at the center),

Take my hand
let us prey
night is ours
wandering one.

* * * * *

Kafka on the Autobahn doing an oily 85 -
nobody moves

the egges of 10,000 ovaries
blushe at the thought

one dance with her
an act of contrition

* * * * *

We're digging for horcruxes
soil mounds - dark magic - terroir
hold tight (each other) for dear life
string theory predicted this
peonies and vinegar set aflame
behind a circle of salt
a centrifuge, my love
seven leg bones set aside
seven skulls to be found
I've only found yours, love
a gilted phrenology, love
seven doe pelts for cover
seven ruddy bucktails for our nest
five fathoms deep breaks this curse
hold tight (each other) for dear love
all our dirt must go back
must return to the start
raised heads
howling winds
baobab trees

* * * * *

Dear Vishnu
in camphor, in honey
seething with bees
its pits as abysses
our apostasy

* * * * *

The past

so rapidly.

I beg all
for forgiveness.

* * * * *

(fade in

     The great-xth-granddaughter
     of Jesus Christ (yes)
     pounding shots
     of Beam

     puts a Camel in her lips
     and asks me for
     a light

     She has her great xth-

fade out)

* * * * *

I read you like a Murakami
lay your hallelujah down

holding the warm embrace
of your manifesto.

I wanna go home,
Nahuatl girl.

Take me home-
smokestack serenade.

This is home,
the place you'll learn

about her dying

whippoorwill song
reliving that grief,

late-term bloom
each hurricane morning-

wild blueberries;
wild Alzheimer's

making such hard,
deep, goddamn love

to the cinéma vérité
of your brain.

* * * * *


* * * * *

Live rounds between us,
babe, bullets arcing

racing keeping some
separation; we won't

win, lollipops at our
lips rather than words.

Such golden embraces
falter in the limelight.

A grass snake at your
feet; an adder at mine;

between us a constrictor.
Womb dripping honey

just to be washed away
by acid rain; live rounds

as raindrops fan
some sort of discontent

too inconsequential to be
called flames.

Take your body past
wild hills to recover

from the wreck
of our dream.

Weave snakes into
baskets of venom;

present them to your
_____. Trading one

small something
for one giant nothing.

* * * * *

This shame is
repeated mistakes
and habits.

Hewn. Hew. He.

I hang my drooping
dandelion head.
Hide my eyes.
Hide my face.



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Hi Mike,   Wow! Long poems usually turn me off, my attention span can't hang.  But this, Wow!  Admittedly, I scanned, then focused on a few sections, but I was compelled to read on.  I will be back to read again and absorb more.  But for now, fascinating piece of writing, the change in cadence is what kept me fixed.  


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~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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  • 2 weeks later...

Thank you so very much Tink! Most poetry I write comes out immediately in its final form. Maybe a small revision or two, but somehow most pieces are finished as soon as I write the last line.

I've had 2 poems to date, this being one of them, that went through countless revisions, rewrites, edits, and workshopped to the bone. This one took me well over a year for me to be happy with the way it turned out.

All that being said, as this poem took the longest to finish, I appreciate your kind words that much more!

Thanks again 😁


Edited by mikejewett
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  • 5 weeks later...

Mike, like Judi, I usually don't favor long poems, but I read this back when you posted it and loved it. It kept my attention all the way to the end. I will absolutely read and enjoy this again.

On 7/29/2022 at 7:43 PM, mikejewett said:

I've had 2 poems to date, this being one of them, that went through countless revisions, rewrites, edits, and workshopped to the bone. This one took me well over a year for me to be happy with the way it turned out.

This is very inspiring. Though you make it look easy, it's encouraging to know that there can be hard work taking place behind the scenes.


Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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