paperback disaster

comic bk seeker

comic book seeker

rolled past a parade down the street,

folding his wings of paper

ears stuffed full of dollar bills:

what’s up?

what’s cop?

with all corners dotted with free-for-all stop signs,

who notices any movement?

tell what’s left of Arizona-city jukeboxes,

whistling gold mine blues

out-an-out nickel for a play

natural-born digster

(can you feel it) somewhere nearby

army headquarters

(where love is born)

grow delinquent of guards,

everyone a seaman

shipping out for the Bay

remember the defense practice drill

where the enlisted had to sit on their hands a full forty minutes,

see if the young natural-born citizen could endure claustrophobia?

a kind of accepted exercise,

this makeshifting for exhibition-

and all the time someone else's

close up,

bookstore fronts jangle with dry hair

soused by electric guitars out of place.

is this some brand of, excuse me, cosmic explosion,

turning wars into children’s games

bathtub suds into river-box rocks?


meanwhile, a miner's tune harps up and down

echoing along Huachuca silver laden hills,

notes heading for the underpass

then to sleep soundly in donkey baseball parks


and voices harmonize from high risin zipped up hip-huggin boots

nailed to the knees

saturated near crystal,

set up like the west,

tanned bottomed naked baby children

get their lullabies free here

delivered on demand, snap

yes, all the anguish and exhaustion has at last been melted to drink.

pitchers now fling quarters instead of a good fastball once in a while.

and these rivers can only be manhole covers for our minds,

we call them whitewater

when we really mean poison marguerites

behind these bars

bands tune up in recycled garbage pails

this time no dress rehearsal


because down those cactus alleyways it is understood:

the desert eats anything

that would stop and stare at it for too long a time

9/16/73

Tucson

desert eats anything