______________________________________________________________
-- word biscuit --
-- great orange period edition --
07-01-00 -- ray heinrich
______________________________________________________________
ah, there you are, a kiss to you
-ray
< across new leaves >
and even then you touch above my belly
run your self down there
(between me)
that this spark of spring whose gentle hammer plays our heads
and switches us to major chords
that bind our thoughts to all this greening growth
you say me with your mouth and mine in yours
and promises they die so splendidly
how slight our light breath moves
across new leaves
- - -
< around >
she turns
"i guess it was too much"
left like that
those words
turning for years
wondering
just what they meant
those words
turning
and funny
how she thought
i was so good
at turning them
and how
now
hers
turn me
- - -
< having to get back to this sunset >
some sunset
you say
while i'm still back here
trying to figure out something that would have mattered an hour ago
or last year
but
it doesn't matter now
always
trying to catch up
and i meant to call
and i meant a lot of things
and the past comes
and haunts again
and tells me things
that once
i thought i knew and thought they didn't matter
some sunset you said
(how long ago?)
but now
i'm always
having to get back to this sunset
- - -
< flying somewhere >
flying somewhere in this part of the sky
dipping a wing or two
a careless circle
watching you there
careless
feathered
throwing tilts
and spins
- - -
< me and the lizard >
my hinges are a little loose
in this desert where it's so dry
that the rocks just fall apart
only a lizard and me
and an old umbrella
that seems weird at first
(but wait til noon)
- - -
< oh those words >
always feasting on sorrow
- - -
< our own >
the surprise today
was so simple
only the sun and the horizon
a great orange period on a line
not the fluffy words of other days nor drenched in sorrow
but instead
in yellow flowers
like roman legions
stretching out
and my dog
must piss on every one
while i
take everything
as sexual metaphor
coke bottles
and toadstools
and my first love
as we swapped underpants
in high school
as we thought we knew
but really
(in our small town)
were faded products in store windows on main street
(the reds long gone, the blues, holding on)
and it
of course
had better be raining
just a quick thunderstorm
over
and now we're dancing steamed vegetables
your hot potato
beside my peas
and the crows
you tell me
are taking over
haven't
(i say)
they've always had control?
the dog
on the other hand
sits quietly
waiting for the squirrel
in day
and the fox
at night
waiting for that shriek
to dance and cry
with its sisters and brothers
while i
finish TV
and gather up my things
and take him for a walk
outside
the night had waited
then
began with us
and the stars
did their coming
and the scents
evolved
and cradled us on each page
whether walking
and contained
or joyous
and drenched in sorrow
each of us
getting to play the night
forgetting the other stories
it was all
our own
- - -
< she was waiting for me >
and it didn't look good
something forgotten?
someone remembered?
hi
i said
(the hi you'd use to a mountain lion in your kitchen)
she didn't spring
just didn't talk to me for days
so
i never found out
but eventually
we got married
and today
on our 18th anniversary
i broke a wedding dish
and wow
did she tell me
- - -
< my wife got a good job >
and good at it too
was making over three times what i made
and working fewer hours
and when i lost my job
i thought my dick would fall off
but after a year
i swear
it's bigger than ever
i wash
i cook
i manage esthetics
sex got promoted
(when guys work the roost
these things happen)
- - -
< spring is very close >
and making a living
(the crows tell me)
will get easier
and the wind
will pick up
and i imagine kites
of all colors
flying at the ends of imaginings
and later
when it's summer
i can see the peace of sunset
and us
swimming in its lake
- - -
< ocean >
the commode
is leaking
she
is leaking
i
am leaking
and all this leaking
makes
in time
an ocean
- - -
< reconnaissance >
(parts stolen from WWII letters)
so we decided
i guess it was the right time to decide
the right time and all
you
a face and pictures
pictures
just one step more
curving over the same cliff
in the war i flew reconnaissance
no weapons
just watching
and pictures
taking pictures
of trees and ammo dumps
all those trees
sacrificed
to bomb the ammo dumps
we lived and died
for the ammo dumps
and sometimes
now
driving to work
i see those ammo dumps
hidden among the trees
and i call in the co-ordinates
as the engine
holds me up
and then morning
and breakfast
and the empty chairs
(i'm counting by names)
and then i wake
(but i'm still counting)
and there's always a window
why do they put them there?
glass
in need of breaking
of making a sharp edge
that speaks of blood
(and falling)
i can't look
there's always a window there
pleading for me
to end its pain
- - -
< she laughs >
i close my eyes
and visions of flames
rolling in music
eaten by birds
she laughs
leaving the gate open for the breeze
and the sun
(not far behind)
- - -
< between summer and night >
in the field blue cornflowers are everywhere
and the back porch opens to the field which opens to the bay
and from the porch
the green of the field
becomes
the green of the marsh
becomes
the green of the bay
this door i'm carving started with a face
it became yours
i fastened a small brass knob
(and careful instructions for polishing it)
and i turned it
hoping
(as always)
to open it
and for the light
(i imagined)
to pour into the room
to pour into the canyons
with statues
mounted on every word
and to feel the press of splinters from the wood itself
a tissue
a vein
a small nerve forgives
(sometimes)
as the chisel waits for the hammer to press it along your face
the mantel of pink and blue becomes sunset
and the path and the pines become the beach
and the smell of roses
presses between summer and night
and i try to copy them
but all i have is this hammer
and this chisel
too sharp for your face
and there was this dream
and there was this day
and you forgave me in one
but not the other
i slipped and your face bled
and your red competed with the sun
and with the low pines crying in the breeze
and with the bone-white gulls
who can trace your cheeks exactly
but all i have is this hammer
and this chisel
that slips into fingers
that can only bleed
- - -
< homeland >
she spoke of her homeland
(an archipelago of chocolate islands in a sweet blue sea)
and of how the lips of the sun
would kiss them as they fished
and of the colors
the countless colors between sky and bone
and how she'd watch
as the night
hid them away
and of her sister and the tortoise
and her mother's stories
that sometimes stretched til morning
and of her father lost at sea
and how each year
her mother knew
the very morning
the first albatross would come
and how she'd stare
at the shimmer just above the sea
until it turned to crescent six foot wings
- - -
____________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________
- legal notes - subscribe info - back issues - bio - copyright -
legal notes:
all registered subscribers to 'word biscuit' have my
permission to publish any individual poem or poems
contained within it (or the whole dang thing if you
get to feeling like it) so long as you obtain no
commercial or barter considerations in exchange for
such copies, it's not part of any pro-republican campaign
literature, and you do it within two years of its original
publication date. anything else requires my permission
which might be obtained (depending on the mood i'm in)
by writing to me at: ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and yes,
i love it every time someone is amused enough to make
copies and send them to friends, pass them out on street
corners, read them in coffeehouses, or wrap them in a
good, honest fish.
subscription info:
if you're not a registered subscriber and would like to
receive 'word biscuit' irregularly (of course it's free),
just send an email saying something like yes to:
ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and don't forget gift subscriptions
for your friends, relatives, and casual acquaintances.
back issues can be found at:
http://wordbiscuit.com/
stock bio:
ray heinrich is an ex-texas technofreak and hippie-socialist
wannabe who lives on the outskirts of washington d.c.
he writes poems for thrills and attention. over the years
his work has appeared in many small, insignificant publications
both in and out of cyberspace. in real life he repairs
computers, has always been married, loves dogs, and owns
a BLUE fish and four BRONZE frogs.
copyright notice:
all this is copyright 2000 by ray heinrich and the free
state of dogs. comments are VERY welcome (send to:
ray@wordbiscuit.com ), ALWAYS read and LOVED as proof
that someone out there acknowledges my existence, but
not always responded to which is a greedy, selfish act
on my part which i seem to keep committing but at least
i'm not wearing any pants and the shirt i used to say i
was wearing had a quote on it from noam chomsky and some
chew marks left on it by a small, obstinate poodle who
was curled up, sleeping, resting his head on my feet a
few minutes ago but is now upstairs barking at a squirrel
and now he's back and now, a month later, he's back again
and now, another month later, he's upstairs barking cause
he wants me to come up and walk him which i'll have to do
but i'll be back in a minute, well, it's been a month and
he's watching the baby racoons again and there's no living
with him until they stop catching and eating the moths on
the screen door and you'd think they'd be scared of him
but no they're just ignoring us and two months later
they're lots bigger and we finally got some rain and three
months after that it's finally getting cold except for
my happy feet beneath a warm and still obstinate poodle
and more months later he's asleep in the other room and
my feet are cold and i have every intention of getting
up and doing something about this but not quite yet and
even more months later he's started up a .com with Ilane
and doesn't visit me any more but i hope he's happy and
remembers me after they loose their first billion.
_____________________________________________________________
__end_________________________________________________________
back
since 09/22/00