William Tell, wild eyed,
his son, trembling,
the apple on his head.
Einstein dancing to
Bobby Blue Bland,
his skinny old hips
grinding it out.
Oppenheimer having
the screaming-meemies
nightmares with
infernos of burning bodies.
Sir Isaac Newton, the hand
of his corpse holding
a cup of putrid tea, his
hollow skull eyes
looking out a window
at Westminster Abbey.
Mark Twain, his crazy-mad
hound dogs by
his side, smoke
swirling from his pipe,
cursing a snake—
charming-preacher.
The falling rain
sounds like a
huge crackling campfire
and the dog is
under the bed pretending
to be the cat
Everyone on TV
is dancing a weird tango
(especially the politicians)
and the radio refuses
to be coherent
A Brahms sonata
is waffling up from
the garbage disposal
and the thunder is
plummeting through the
Oregon wilderness,
screeching like Big Foot
with a shovel jammed
up his anus
To crack open the universe
with a poem:
like a hammer and chisel
into a sweet
ripe
coconut.
Ah, what freedom
this is,
baby
Doug Draime has been a presence in the literary "underground" since he began publishing in Los Angeles in the late 1960's. His moost recent book is More Than The Alley, released in 2012. Awarded small PEN grants in 1987, 1991, 1992. Nominated for several Pushcart Prizes in the last few years. He lives in the foothills of the Cascades.
ISSUE:
S P R I N G
2014
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