Friday, August 25, 2006

Highway Blues

The guy
although handsome
is a fathead.

The girl
although pretty
and pretty clever
is a stupid cow
just because she saw
her parents having group sex.

The chapters
although fast
don’t go anywhere
beyond cliffs
for which there are no notes
yet.

The church
although totally to blame
turns out not to be
the one true church

The pyramid the light gets through
although accurately described
turns out to be a thing
anyone can photograph
and will always look the same.

The creep directing the plot
although learned and mysterious
turns out to be Mel Gibson
in his dotage.

The heavy
although easily persuaded
turns out not to be able
to taste the poison
that kills him.

The author who pretends to be learned
although innocent
turns out to only want to be
a millionaire
& is only too happy
to put his wife
although a coconspirator
on the stand.

The funny little box
although meant for mushrooms
(psilocybin)
is empty.

The chapel
although in Scotland
is placed where other gods so much
before that time
ate the hearts of
imperfect devotees.

Robert Graves
although long deceased
issued a curse
that will get anyone who believes
this nonsense
eventually.

In August 2006 (CE)
Mona Lisa appeared mysteriously
on a cliff beside a highway
singing the blues
in Oregon. The mystery of her
creation is unsolved to this day.

1 Comments:

Blogger Frans Vander Grove said...

I would not, as a rule, comment on my own “work” but “Highway Blues” begs (at least it begs me for) background. Background of the sort one might speak at a reading. When I was in Michigan this summer my brother Tom and I got in a good-natured dispute about The Da Vinci Code. Tom thinks it’s a great book and I think it’s not even any good. It was clear that each of us was coming at it from a totally different perspective and neither of us understood the other’s at all. (Intoxicants may have been involved.) Tom finally told me that I should write what I was trying to say down, and I replied that I didn’t write about things like that, and besides, I was too busy working on a poem for David Schaafsma’s baseball poetry project. Tom thought that was very lame, so lame he nearly sneered. In the time since, the fact of writing “Diatribe” has generated more scribble energy than I thought I possibly might have and, after a full day’s partying on a Sunday, I woke up wide awake around 3 AM and wrote pretty much what is now “Highway Blues.” This is not in the same league as Townes Van Zandt dreaming a song and writing it down at Guy & Susanna Clark’s kitchen table in the morning, but it had a revenant kind of kick to it.

6:42 PM  

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