bug universe
teleporting through hazy wires
drawled-out AM radio Gulf-coast voices
east Texas towns named Darlinia
who'd wanna to be secretary of this state?
who'd wanna export this Texas watermelonnecked state of mind?
who’d wanna sign up for “America’s lone star state”?
an outhouse of demented independence
where dreamy teens inevitably leave home
rather than swallowing hard lonely nights
reaching for futile cowgirl dreams
licking expired stamps all night at post office parking lots
then mailing out bridal invitations to New Orleans truckers
driving through bug splattered crusted cracked glass
multi-winged interwoven butterfly collages form
an organic exactitude emerging out from my head
shucks, better to be a gas station attendant
checking strangers’ oil and water
scraping off swallowed windshields of road kill death
and eventually my multi-bug red eyes
driven crazy enough
will escape from this rubber roaded
dizzy demented atmosphere
1981