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-- word biscuit --
-- what's that name edition --
05-14-97 -- ray heinrich
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spring is a name, summer is a name,
and then there's fido.
-ray
< rummage sale >
open mouths in the picture
stay still
the grasp of each finger
taken from that very instant
as two hands
joined together in
some promise of 1890
now rests in my hands
at a rummage sale
saved by some dead child
of some dead mother and father
and i put it down again
and walk off
leading my heart
to the next tent
the next shelter
where voice and words
come together
in the midst of clutter
watching a free crow
as it joins its comrades
flying and flying
gifts grow promises and
the very stuff of existence
is bread with
many other names
- - -
< someone else who loved you >
we never had the chance
i looked at you in the shower
it was one of those open showers
in an army barracks
i loved you
from my top bunk
looking at you as you dressed
knowing
that if i ever mentioned
how i loved your smooth curves
and the way
you laughed at what i said
and when i
took your hand
it seemed to you
that i was shaking it
but i was really holding it
and i could only go to sleep
four feet above you
by listening to your breath
in and out
in and out
i love you
i write your words
one after the other
each time you mention me
and you
like me a lot
like to have me around
we're good buddies
and i feel i might break
keeping this in
but i never did
and maybe you'll see this now
and maybe you'll see my name
and maybe
since you're older
and the times have changed
you won't think of me
as something wrong
just someone else who loved you
- - -
< middle of you >
i left
right in the middle of you
but
in the other cities
there was always
a street like you
and
i would steal it's name
and
sing to it
and
take it to bed with me
before
they made me put it back
but now
i'm back
and
i'm right
where i left off
right
in the middle of you
- - -
< breakfast >
cereal in the morning
shredded wheat with skim milk
a teaspoon of cream
splashed on top
the pure white of the cream
floating on top
mixing in spirals
with the translucence of the milk
the spoon
smooth stainless
pure
in its function
carries food from bowl to mouth
at the first hit
of cream
the saturated fat has intercourse
with my tongue
a little later
i wash the bowl
looking at its pottery glaze
my hands feeling hand-made shapes
fingers fitting where fingers fit
turning it over and reading the makers name
the smooth curve of the bowl
matching the smooth waist of the maker
the bowl
made for my wife
before i knew her
by a friend
before i knew him
breakfast
- - -
< for chris >
wishes turn sour
when they get to us
past the end of things
you thought you could paint them out
using sympathetic magic
from your 21st century
i hope it still works for you
but here i am
always left with me
and you
reading this
i know you are not chris
that was just me
adding some interest
using the name of a past love
trying to squeeze some life
out of these tv shows
and you
reading this
when this ends
there you are
always left with you
i guess we're twins
- - -
< elderly woman drives off cliff, plunges into river >
The newspaper box holds up the
front page of a small-town paper
and below the headlines about city
council elections and the
unexpected win of the highschool
football team is one reading
"elderly woman drives off cliff,
plunges into river" and the article
goes on to describe what the police
found and they print her name
and it's the same as my mother's
and i know it's not her but it
still frightens me to have my
mother's name driving off a
cliff and they think it was a
suicide because she had lost her
husband of 63 years two weeks
before and her neighbors said
they'd seen her washing the car
and were worried because it was
October and too cold for an
83-year-old woman to be washing
a car.
- - -
< long beach, gulf war >
i am here
part of the long beach of sand
the long beach of sand
the sand plowed over us
by the tanks you paid for
covering our trenches
covering our breathing souls
under the long beach
under the moon
now we are grains of sand
ground by the wind
from rocks that speak our names
the seeds of conscripts
planted far from our villages
planted too deep to grow
- - -
< names >
philip
glances at his watch
leaving on the nine o-clock
barely a chance
but if he ran
susan
was running for the gate
all that wool skirt
catching up to do
tripping on
most of it
ray
is waiting to be eaten
out in a world
missing food
jennifer
though spring catches her
feels
the first frost anyway
pat
knows something
but
she's not telling
alex
stands flat
rubbed by the pavement
by talking all night
michael
his eyes
his face
supply what's needed
rachel
is always gone
but the moon
keeps her safe
lynne
is lost
but somewhere else
she counts our lives
averil
her breasts
lit
through gold and violet gels
barbara
flies
highest of all
constantly circling
bill
reading the paper
walking mud and new roads
calls home
smitty
wants another place
admits miles
between his eyes
cathy
her small room
filled
with constant song
babs
she pulls
her thread so easy
through my fingers
koko
and gary snyder
grin
sharing a joke
but let us in
roger
talks
but leaves us nothing
as we do the same
for him
gale
that long fall
down the mountain
just shined up
your chrome finish
paul
he stutters
lovely things
in the morning
by himself
raymond
runs his kids away
while talking backwards
through the day
toby
is all future now
life and sticks
the same possession
ilane
stretches quietly
as nothing
becomes us all
- - -
_______________________________________________________________
if you know someone (yourself too) who would like to get
word biscuit irregularly (of course it's free), just send
me an email saying something like yes.
you have my permission to copy and post this issue of word
biscuit so long as you obtain no commericial or barter
considerations in exchange for such copies, it's not part
of any pro-republican campaign literature, and you do the
whole damn thing including this stuff at the end or you
write to me and ask.
and all this is copyright 1996 & 1997 by ray heinrich
and the free state of dogs. comments are very welcome,
send to: ray@scribbledyne.com and i'm not wearing any pants.
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