Don’t go calling on a whisper,
Worn out in an icebox
Left behind with gravel
Torn bits of a working past.
Don’t leave it there
For it will fade until forgotten
And cease to mean
What it once meant to be.
Its function will go away,
And its form and vigor
Will become used car sales lots
At the dodgy end of town.
For there is no good come
Of a screw head stripped of groove,
Nor a dollar bill
Faded to dust.
Tag: bill
Life is Lonely (day 2411)
Life is lonely
There’s no getting around this fact;
There’s no bluer sky,
Or cloudless forever horizon;
There’s no cup of coffee
That can satisfy longer than it takes
To sign your name to a bill.
And when you feel you’re getting caught
In a wirlwind of unlonely,
A ghastly calm shall succeed
Like a dance that ended
When your eyes were closed,
Lost in sweet reverie.
Life is lonely
And the birds are really singing to you,
Or they’re not because they do go silent too;
Sun will inevitably say goodnight
Or hide behind a thick backlit veil,
Looking the other way
As the day passes by,
And you wont reach out
Because you are silently alerted
To your own lonliness
And it feels better, for some reason,
To speak without an audible sound
And inevitably pretending
That your next cup of coffee
Will solve all of these reflecting mirrors.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXXI (day 2045)
Sara and Bill were happy to see me
They said they hadn’t had any visitors yet this summer
And had none to expect
They confessed they had been watching a while for me now
Thinking it was about that time
That I’d be showing up,
If I were to be showing up at all
They had news of a few U.S. Army parties
Heading through these parts
Looking for some rogue bandits of some sort
Miners, they said, that had caused quite a stir
In a town about five days ride South East
Early in the Spring
We said we hadn’t seen or heard either of them
It wasn’t the group that Tall Pine and I
Had tracked the year prior that ransacked our home,
It is always a bit unsettling
Knowing that people like that are out there
Maybe watching us as we go about our day
Who knows what they’d do if they stumbled upon our home
Most likely they’d stay right clear
If they know what was best for them
We have a good number of scouts
Always roaming the valley who wouldn’t be
Too friendly to them, also.
We showed Sara the gift of our deer
And she was very happy to accept it
She immediately went to work preparing it
And Moon Cow asked her if she’d like us to set up
A smoke house for them to smoke it with
She said that she had heard of such things
But never seen one set up
And she’d be much obliged if we could show her
That was, of course, if we could put one together
With the little pieces
Of leftover wood that we could find around
We told her that wouldn’t be an issue
That all we needed was a few axes
And we’d be able to make it from a few fresh logs.
We spent the night listening to Bill’s stories
Moon Cow fit in just fine
Being a man of words, too
I think Johnny-Boy enjoyed hearing the stories
Moon Cow shared,
A culture I don’t think he has yet had
Much exposure to,
His life mostly living off the land
As they were now
And in mining towns
Like the one he was born in.
Moon Cow and I slept outside
We made a small fire
To keep ourselves warm through the night
I liked sleeping under the stars most of the time
It’s something that you get used to
And if you have just a few small luxuries
It really can become quite liberating
Traveling so lightly and freely
Especially when you’re carrying
Everything on your back.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXX (day 2044)
We had been going North for three days
And decided to head West towards the mountains
Until we could go no further
And then begin the journey South
Towards our home
Hoping by that time, we’d have some meat.
By noon we had two deer, one male and one female
Moon Cow had found the first one
Put an arrow into it that went in through the rib cage
And Long Arrow put a second arrow into it
Which went right into its neck
We followed it for a short time
Easy to keep track of as it moved slowly
And as we were doing this
Moon Cow saw a second one, the male
Which Runs Wild also saw at the same time
So he snuck up on it a little bit
With Moon Cow right there beside him
As Long Arrow and I kept tracking the first one
And Runs Wild put his arrow right into the second deer’s heart
Which fell right there, on the spot.
For the rest of the afternoon we dressed the deer
And feasted on the hearts
A delicacy I had acquired the taste for
Hunting with Moon Cow
He once told me a story of why it’s important
To first eat the heart of the animal
That has sacrificed it’s life for us
“When the moon bleeds it’s light
We must see it
And the Coyotes howl
We must hear it
When the wind blows
We must send our messages in it
So to must we eat the heart
Of the life we took.”
There is an unspoken tension
That exists when upon the hunt
And no hunt has been made
Land speaks to one in this way
Without words
Call it superstitions
Call it coincidence
But food is food and when no food has been got
One will go hungry
A winter with no food is a cold winter indeed
We were all happy that night
To have very full bellies.
At this point, we were only a day and a half
Away from Sara, Bill, and Johnny-Boy
Who I hadn’t yet gone to check-in on this year
I made mention that I’d like to go see them
And Moon Cow was eager to meet them himself
But Long Arrow and Runs Wild showed no interest
So we decided that the two of us would go see them
With extra heavy packs
And give them a healthy portion of deer
We traveled together for one full day
And when Moon Cow woke me up the second morning
Long Arrow and Runs Wild had already left
Moon Cow and I arrive at their cabin by noon
Just in time for fresh bread from Sara’s oven.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXIX (day 2023)
It was easy for us to get used to the freedom
Of Spring, going about the land as we wished,
Growth sprouted everywhere
And was brilliant to see
It nicely encouraged our walks
To become longer and longer
And we’d find ourselves
Re-familiarizing with the landscape
We had become intimate with the year before
It was fun recognizing a new tree had fallen here
Or the trail flooded there.
Willow continued to teach me the plants
Showing me where they liked to grow
And explaining to me how they were medicinal
Or just that they were good to eat
I could have asked for no better teacher
And pupils!
Almost always Lily was learning with me
Out walking with us
And sometimes we took Tall Pine along with us
He was quickly becoming a good friend of mine
As well as Lily’s
His bravery the Autumn before
Had proven him a worthy man among men,
Of course, Tall Pine and I would always have
Our bow & arrows with us
That would frequently find the necks
Of small game as we wandered.
I made a point to go and visit
Sara, Bill, and Johnny-boy
Two valleys to the North
To see how they had survived the winter
They were happy to have a visitor
And it was nice for me to be on the trail
By myself for a change
Satiating a little bit of my desire to walkabout
Johnny-boy was fascinated with the story I told them
About the miners who had raided our village
The Autumn before while the camp was out hunting
But Sara and Bill knew better then to get excited
About such savage tendencies.
Living on a homestead in the West
One had to be careful when somebody came onto your land
You could never really tell which ones
Wanted to have some tea
Or which ones wanted to shoot you
Cold blooded murder
And stay a while in your cabin
As they looted and ate all they could
And left your body for the worms.
Bill liked to tell stories
And told a few he had heard
From his mining buddies
Of: “Dem good ol’days, y’kno Joe?”
I’d nod, and he’d continue
With another unbelievable tale.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXX (day 2004)
Willow knew how to throw up the teepee
But I quickly learned how, too,
It was my first time
But with Willow and Moon Cow giving orders
It went up easily
We set up Moon Cow’s close by ours
And slowly we became acquainted with our new home
For the summer, anyways,
For now it was our home.
When we first stopped
And made our home here
Mountain Chief had sent out scouts
In every direction
To make sure that we were indeed
Not going to be easily found
Every second day new scouts
Would relieve the old scouts
And so it went for the first while
Without any event to note of.
We learned that in the two valleys to the North
About a 4 hour horseback ride
There was a small family settlement
Mountain Chief asked me if I would go
And introduce myself to them
So that they would know we meant peace
But also to see if they were friendlies
To see if they were friendly to Natives.
When I arrived at their house
I wasn’t expecting what I found
Truth be told, I didn’t know what I was expecting
But at any rate
What I found really didn’t seem normal
She was deaf and he was blind
They had a dog with three legs
And a son, well more a man they called boy,
That was a good two feet taller then both of them
And to my untrained eye,
Didn’t look a lick like either one of them
They all seemed happy enough though
And I got along just nice with them.
Her name was Sara
And it turned out that her hearing
Wasn’t as bad as one first thought
And what she lacked in hearing
She made up for in a delicious soup
His name was Bill, and he was an old miner
He had come West to the hills to find gold
And I didn’t ask if he had found it
But he did tell me he found Sara
And knew he had found what he came for
Sara had already had the son
By another miner who had taken her
One night while visiting the saloon in town
The young man’s name was Johnny,
Who they both called Johnny-boy
And just watching his hands work an axe
For firewood to get ol’ Sara’s stove roaring
One could see he was as gentle as a pillow
But as strong as an ox
Bill told me he went blind from drinking too much moonshine
And that was the last time
He touched the: “Gat-dang stuff. Pardon my French, little lady.”
Lofty Wedding Plans (day 1050)
Could you Amaretto my incomprehensible stiletto? Deep soaked truths brushing up against the blue moon life story that shared Tom Waits and Miles Davis equally between the two top sheet stuffed mattress in a good lord rented room.
The walls were left bare; freedom and shit. Fucking expressionists and their lofty ideals pulsing rapidly amongst soiled novellas and empty chopstick promises. How did I get here. How did I find this spot from outside in? I left little spit smears on my way here to keep me from wanting to know the way back, to keep me from guessing at a way back, and to keep the collectors hot at my rented room door.
The walls never left me wondering for too long, they’d start dripping some smear mold juice as the clock told me late. This was after I’d fucked the last resort out of my head and told my mistress to make herself at home, to which she calmly replied she was at home. I was the guest. I was the visitor in this white washed world trying to jam my heart out in broad brush strokes and feverish memories. Not ones that were lucid, the ones that came and convulsed and controlled and regurgitated out my heart like lofty wedding plans standing alone with a big bill and an empty passenger seat.
Cause fuck brothers and sisters. Fuck their abuse and consumption and interruptions and impressions. I’ve got Miles Davis really laying me low when I need the time off. You’re not the legend I thought you could be, but I’ve sure left out a piece of the past like left over cum spots in a 17$ too good too remember night.
Daddy left me here. He was two dollars short on the rent cheque, he was two days late coming home when I held mommas starving and overdosed fingers, left the biggest hole in his smallest of hearts where I put an industry of lifelines and bagged political statements I had prepared for a two minutes long deposition. I wasn’t ruthless as I counted on my fingers the number of deadbeats I had written letters for, I wasn’t ruthless as I blew elitist smoke up the child-like innocent faces of the wide eyed yuppies.
Now dare tell me why my maidens eyes weren’t bloodshot. Why hadn’t the tears soaked through her indiscriminate and perked speedbags that kept me looking like wild Jack, wild Dad, searching for the red room. Red Rum. Fuck. Red room. What kind of luck should I bring down on such an innocent vixen? Such a loudly laughing white swan budding in my autumn garden. I’m not a troubadour. I’m a fucking junkie.