After Howl VI
who plunged themselves under
meat trucks looking for an egg,
—Allen
Ginsberg
down on all fours like a stray dog
caught with a frozen steak beneath his teeth
(except dogs do not walk on their knees)
they saw an oil leak
nasty enough that if the truck
was driven another block or two
its engine would blow
and in their examination of the stain
missed shells dropped from a Corvette
on its way to New Jersey
missed the rattle of the
compressor
that kept the steaks between
the dog’s teeth frozen
their load starting to thaw
before delivery to the plump housewife
in 4C of a brownstone walkup
on the Lower East Side
missed the Easter Egg hidden
in the Word 2003 software used
to write this strophe
missed the Sunnyside sailor
hitchhiking under the Queensboro bridge
an unused condom in his wallet
missed the ex-Ukrainian baron
selling egg crèmes
and wooden dolls to tourists
on their way to the Statue of Liberty
missing spring wheat on the Dnieper
missed the howl of the stray dog
as he bit into a frozen steak
as he fought to keep the steak
against a pack of his mates
as Moloch laughed
W Does Haiku
My critics don’t realize I
don’t make verbal gaffes; I’m speaking in the perfect forms
and rhythms of ancient haiku.
—George
W Bush, 2001*
the green zone—
scent of barbeque
twang of Texas laughter
brass temple bells
soundless in a western wind
iris blooms late
burnt flesh
a mother’s lament
crowds out the market’s cry
the master lost his shit-stick
the student his patience
the poet his ink
*Newsweek, March 24,
2008
A Bush I: The First Edition
Always Lands on the Roof
"I'm the master of low
expectations."
—George W. Bush
I wake in the middle of the night,
disturbed by a dream that seems
to take place in real time, bothered
by images of cattle and goats bombed
with a precision today’s technology cannot emulate – the black
and mottled
pick out from among herd and flock,
the socks and masks gathered together
as if the auction bidding is complete.
I wake to the sound of the morning
news—
a shooting
house fire
delivery truck crash
war
mutilation
small lies
sports
stock ticker
and the weather
I wake and wonder
what’s the difference
between the dream
and the reality zippering
its way from my radio
before my first cup of coffee
eradicates dream and anxiety
A Bush II: The Second Will Be
Thrown in the Barberries
I am the decider.
—George
W. Bush
Rising
the first decision I must make
is what color t-shirt to wear—
white or gray
next, whether I should cover it
with a plain black sweatshirt
or one advertising soft drinks
beer, an auto I can’t afford
which leg to put in my pants first
what flavor
creamer to put in my coffee
although there is only one flavor
in the house
when to get the paper
shower
have breakfast
a fully decided day
even though I’ve never had to
decide
whether to save a village
by destroying it
A Bush III: A Third Lay in the
Rain until I Picked It up
"See, in my line of work you
got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for
the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda."
—George
W. Bush
Every morning, I look in the mirror
and see a lad as handsome as Cary
the price of gas went up again
today
with Kirk’s rugged countenance
and Jimmy’s engaging smile.
my taxes are due next month
Every morning, I stand on the
scales,
and marvel that I dropped ten pounds
I forgot to lock all the doors
last night
on a peanut butter and bean dip
diet
while exercising only when typing.
strawberries and whipped cream
have been recalled
Every day, I sing while in the
shower,
arias worthy of the fourth tenor
the shopping news has been late
all week
a bit of be-bop made famous by
Frank,
“Crazy” crooned to the sound of water fall.
static on the radio is
interrupted
by sudden bursts of talk
Tomorrow, I will rise and begin
Crazy at the beginning.
A Bush IV: Today the Paper Boy
Is Late
"One year ago today, the time for excuse-making has come to
an end."
—George W. Bush
In 1959, I fib to my unborn
children. I continue to fib long past the day I acknowledge I
am bald.
In
1964, I believe a politician, not the one whose lies trapped
him and continues to ensnare us in 2036.
In 1967, I commit a sin so minor
that neither God nor Lucifer would deign to notice it. I will
not commit the same sin again until 1979.
In 1970, I write my last poem
until 1998.
In 1974, I lie to my wife. She will forgive me that lie, but
not all, especially the ones she does not know (but suspects)
are lies.
In 1977, I over prune the orchard. The trees do not bear fruit
until I move to the city.
In 1981, I invade Grenada . I will
bomb Cambodia .
In 1986, I am cruel to our dog.
In 1994, I build a fence. I take
it down in 2009.
In 1999, I retire. I forget to
feed the cat.
In 2001, I finish the book I am
reading.
In
2006, I eat my first lobster.
In 2012, I repent everything but
retirement.
This list was almost complete in 2119.
A Bush V: A Sudden Wind Blew
the Comics across the Lawn
"A dictatorship would be a heck
of a lot easier, there's no question about it."
—George W. Bush
My mother used to say
“If wishes were fishes, the air
would be as full as the sea.”
If I were in charge, Bread would
be sold in sliced loaves.
Bookstores would be open 24/7.
Remainders would be donated to
food banks.
Poets would be government employees.
Chairs would be endowed for fields
of study for Lear, Nash, and Cummings
Selection committees would be
formed, supported by Department Secretaries,
Under-Secretaries, Deputy Secretaries, and Assistant
Secretaries.
Procurement officers, personnel
experts, art critics, file clerks, structural engineers, and
dance troupes would be hired.
Space would be procured.
Rules would be written.
Verse libre would be codified.
Water would be sold in clear
plastic bottles.
*
My grandmother used to
say
“If I were queen for a day
Butter would be easy to churn.
We would invade Canada for not
agreeing to our use of Petite Miquelon.
A Bush VI: The Dog Ate the
Obituaries
“They misunderestimated me.”
—George W. Bush
He would say something
inappropriate,
often cruel,
from a time before this one,
something we did not understand,
we were not sure we heard.
Where’s Socks? Where’s
my…… puppy? John, you are dumber…… than a sack of
apples. Boy, never could do…… nothing. Martha, where’s that
idiot…… husband of yours? What’s his name? Jim……?He
still hidin’ in the car……… like I’m gonna bite
him? I want my…… pudding. Who took my jello?
It’s all that… Clinton ’s… fault the ragheads have all
the oil. Ever……ybody with an ounce of sense……
knows that. Got any chew?
We could only stay a mercifully
short time,
the Home’s staff strictly enforced visitation time limits.
We would listen,
laugh at some foolishness he said,
and bite our lips to keep from
telling him what we really thought.
On the way to our cars,
I said something inappropriate,
something easily misunderstood.
They listened, laughed,
and bit their tongues.
The next visit, I sat in the cars
with Jim.
A Bush VII: The Paper Stopped
We Forgot to Restart It
"I glance at the headlines just
to kind of get a flavor for what's moving. I rarely read the
stories, and get briefed by people who are probably read the
news themselves."
—George W. Bush
Nothing!
A silence as dead as if the
television broke
the telephone never rings
Rush Limbaugh off the radio
The embarrassment of dead air
blank pages in a book of empty pages
the knowledge we know less than a third grader
a Great Dome of Silence
that would even hush Dr. King’s dream
mute the batons and bullets in Daley’s Chicago
quiet the discomfort of decent people
when we plan a picnic
I will probably check the weather
when I nap on a Mexican beach
I will probably use sun screen
when I purchase a cabinet from
Ikea
I will probably glance at the assembly instructions
as I return with the morning
paper
I will probably check the headlines
if there is a tsunami
I will probably notice the
warning alarm
As we come to a finish
we fail to hear the End Times clatter
we only notice the newsreader gesture
his utterance
nothing
that needs to disturb my morning coffee—
