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    -- word biscuit --
    
                    -- donner & blitzen edition --
    
                                         12-24-96 - ray heinrich
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    well here it is, the second "very precious" xmas edition of 
    word biscuit.  the first proto-biscuit was baked on 4-4-95 
    and tastes a bit moldy (but then parts of the last one had a 
    strangely familiar yeasty taste).

    so happy donner and merry blitzen and lusty cupid 
    and warm huggy-bear comet and may the serene luminance 
    of rudolf's nose light a clear path for you well into 
    the new year,

    -ray  
     
    (and yea, a few of these poems are from last year)
    



          < xmas >
        
        shelves filled 
        with the beauty 
        of fresh ornament

        the bees knees 
        and 
        the trees leaves
        and 
        the twig 
        of this moment's purpose
        breaks under the clock's 
        second foot
        kicking the chimes
        dancing 
        with a chorus
        of produce
          
            - - 




        < made in china >
    
    i'm practicing my Chinese
    in a K-Mart
    i'm translating labels
    as i come to them
    and this shirt says
    it's made in China 
    by people who believed in free speech
    and made the mistake of saying so
    and this pair of pants was
    hand-crafted in China 
    by a woman who mentioned 
    Tiananmen square
    and these socks 
    were produced in China 
    by a man who is gay 
    or maybe he's Christian
    my Chinese 
    really 
    just isn't that good
    and this toy
    was assembled in China by someone
    it could have been anyone 
    who lived in Tibet
    and this coat for the winter
    was made by them all
    made by the people 
    in the factory prisons
    and you hope they don't know
    but you know that they do
    that each man
    and each woman
    that everyone knows
    the US is where
    their merchandise goes
    
            - - -





      < a good roll >

  god sent me an email today:
    
   "so i lied about Jesus 
    he wasn't really my son
    he was a philosopher 
    just trying 
    to practice his ideals
    the rest 
    was a story i made up
    
    you see 
    my religion wasn't going too good
    and i had lots of competition 
    from the other gods
    i needed an event
    it wouldn't have to be a Woodstock
    but i needed something 
    to get the ball rolling
    when here comes this carpenter
    who thinks 
    he's figured out the golden rule
    but i think
    here's my man
    
    it just took a few rumors 
    to get him crucified
    and then i whispered 
    a few more stories 
    in the right ears
    and bingo
    i had me a thing goin
    
    Zeus was pissed
    and the Earth Mother 
    got her panties in a twist
    while I
    settled in for a good roll"
    
              - - -





  < making cornbread xmas style >
    
    cleaning out the garage 
    or i wish i was
    actually i'm piling some stuff
    i don't recognize 
    on top of some more stuff 
    that at least 
    has a familiar color
    a green 
    the color of my first model plane
    but it can't be here
    in the wrong garage
    and the wrong decade
    as i knock over a bottle
    of some xmas present
    from less 
    than a decade ago
    that happens to be sherry
    so i put 
    whatever it was i made space for 
    down
    thereby taking up the space again
    and i take the bottle 
    back 
    into the kitchen
    and open it 
    and pour it  
    and drink it
    and it's bitter 
    but it will do
    as i set it down
    next to the corn meal
    the flour 
    the sugar
    the baking powder
    the salt 
    the milk 
    the eggs 
    and the olive oil
    which i use
    instead of bacon fat
    and i turn the oven to 425 
    thinking of how 
    i was only going to make his flesh tonight
    but now
    i'll be drinking his blood as well
    
           - - -





           < Merry Christmas >
    
      i mean
      sure 
      Christ was born at some other time
      and sure 
      he was an honest worker/philosopher 
      who said there were no gods 
      and that we were responsible 
      for our own actions 
      and sure 
      the P.R. people got ahold of it 
      and turned it all around 

      BUT 
      people being people 
      the true miracle of Christmas appeared:
 
      we figured out how to have fun anyway  

            Merry Santa Claus

                  - - -





    < don't let santa invoke satan >
    
    i got an email today:
    
       "Don't let Santa invoke Satan,
         keep Christ in your Christmas."
    
   (now i'm making up the rest of this poem
    but honest, that was real)
    
    now i figure
    it must have been miss-delivered
    because at xmas when i was ten
    i got a green bike
    when i'd really asked for a red one
    and this was repeated 
    year after year
    and it's not like i didn't
     get lots of good stuff
    but i never could influence santa at all
    so now 
    if santa gets behind this xmas 
    and asks his fellow angel satan
    for a little help
    and puts him in charge of coal and switches
    (you just know he'd be good at that)
    and you also know that santa's 
    just not going to listen to me
    when i tell him 
    he shouldn't go around invoking satan
    so i guess it's reasonable 
    to keep christ in xmas
    cause if there's any trouble
    between santa and satan
    christ is the only one i know 
    who could handle it
    
               - - -
    
    
    


      < my holiday wish for writers >   
    
    writers can have happy holidays
    but they write much better 
    if they don't
    so i'm wishing you
    dreadful holidays
    ones filled 
    with the desperate emotions 
    that you need
    
    well
    ok 
    maybe a few ducks 
    but besides the ducks and a stray koala bear 
    that smells like a giant cough drop 
    because she eats eucalyptus leaves all day
    i'm wishing you a wretched and miserable 
    grouping of holidays 
    except 
    of course
    for a seven hundred pound carrot cake 
    and some naked twins 
    of whatever sex you desire
    
                 - - -





      < holiday season >

  this holiday season started out 
  as a big celebration

  but later these Puritans came along
  and burned a few people
  and called it 
  spiritual purity  

  if you ask me
  it wasn't spiritual purity 
  it was burning a few people

  now i don't know about you
  but this holiday season
  i'm celebrating

            - - -






           < xmas visit >
        
        your prince of peace framed 
        with bones and nails
        keeps you safe 
        from the faces in the window
        but i am not so good at these things 
        i can't explain 
        the pictures of belief
        lining your walls
        and i will never know your father 
        or his bones
        but i am waiting 
        watching you secure upon your rock
        me swimming the sea listening 
        to your gracious bells
        
               - - -
    



        
        < the shadow of heaven >
        
        we must all be 
        underneath the shadow of heaven
        the latticework 
        that keeps us 
        from the real void 
        the unimaginable
        
        but stop and ask me 
        what i am doing
        what is my presumption 
        to name a poem 'the shadow of heaven'
        and i will tell you 
        the real power of a poet 
        is the power to use 
        whatever words are available 
        and the payment is 
        as always
        to be ignored 
        and sometimes to be burned
        but only the best are burned
        the freedom of mediocrity 
        is sublime and total

        and as the smoke rises
        you don't need to ask 
        where the best are
        you have only 
        to lay yourself back 
        in the shadow of heaven 
        falling over us all
        
               - - -





    < home for the holidays >
    
      bad news oh mister
      the shark ate my sister
      the one
      that you truely adored
    
      and my poor ole mother
      as well as my brother
      it's sad
      but at least i'm not bored

            -  -  -





< blessings of comfort and joy >

  blessings of comfort and joy
  fall 
  just where they may
  and none of us
  no matter how we try
  can ever 
  tell just where

           - - -



    
        < christmas blessings >
    
    the warm wood floor of the living room
    our parent's living room 
    when it was ours 
    sits 
    some place in our heads
    my head
    and my sister's head 
    as she talks to me 
    long distance from the coast
    and dad
    our dad 
    is asking us again
    to guess the presents
    as he smiles at us
    and the tree 
    rises above us
    as we sit on the floor
    the warm wood floor
    and barely remember
    we're on the telephone
    talking 
    of christmas blessings
    
             - - -



_______________________________________________________________
    if you know someone (yourself too) who would like to get
    word biscuit irregularly, just send me an email saying 
    something like yes.  oh, and all this stuff is copyright 
    1995 & 1996 by the free state of dogs and ray heinrich.
    you have my permission to copy it and post it a reasonable 
    number of times as long as it doesn't involve charging money
    (kinda redundant, after all, it IS poetry), it's not part of 
    any pro-republican campaign literature, and you include:  
    "copyright 1995 & 1996 ray heinrich - comments welcome, 
    send to: ray@scribbledyne.com and i'm not wearing any pants"

    END for now
 

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