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-- word biscuit --
-- thousand-ton bat edition --
-- ray heinrich --
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At the Word Biscuit Division of Scribbledyne Corporation:
THE FUTURE IS YESTERDAY!
-ray
p.s. the back issues are at a new place: http://wordbiscuit.com
< about those bats >
Yes, I admit it, they're my fault.
A gene must have slipped out
somewhere between insect resistant
corn and all those handy vegetables
I designed that peeled and sliced
themselves. And this gene (an honest
mistake, really) somehow created
millions of twenty-ton moths that
pretty much put an end to Monday
night football, Coleman lanterns, etc.
So it only seemed logical to make
lots of thousand-ton bats with the
IQ of Einstein.
- - -
< such bright new stars >
the balcony is smoldering
but not empty
for there they are
an audience turned actors
their bodies an abstraction
no flesh
just gestures of escape
soliloquies played to a locked exit door
played in the last fiery reel of their movie
they were such bright new stars
and had such hopes...
but sadly now
the only way they're known
is by their teeth
- - -
< hiking >
gnats up my nose
flesh
rubbing against poison ivy
ankles
swarming with tiny ticks
flies
crawling in my hair
mosquitoes
sucking at my body
(and wasps and scorpions
only seconds away)
i'm itching in ALL my places
and i scratch
and they bleed
and the mountain lions are thinking
"wounded prey"
and they're right
- - -
< i'm voting pro-death >
there are too many people
and i'm for anything that gets rid of them
that's why i'm voting Republican
let me tell you
abortion is chicken-feed
for every one you kill that way
you can kill 1250 with crappy health care
- - -
< a contexture of somniloquists >
living advertisements
most of us
members since birth
asleep
weaving our words
scuffed, hand-me-down,
ground smooth of meaning
they slip out easily
without a catch
asleep
we cannot listen
only mouth our words
adorned in cheap enamel
its bright colors
intended to distract
- - -
< Sara's 1st Saga >
"Their first time out, and, of course,
she'd be the one to wander off" thought
Grandpa just before he found her.
"Sara!" Grandpa shouted, "Get down from
there! I swear, you're such a caution!"
Sara, covered in delicious pollen, stared down
from the top of a tall yellow flower.
"But Gramps... "
"Don't Gramps me! Heaven knows what might
see you in the middle of this field.
Now you get down here right now,
unless you want to get yourself eaten."
"Yikes!" she said, and started scrambling
down way-too-fast tripping over one leg,
and another, and another... "double-yikes!"
she said as she fell off "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeee", pLoP, right onto Grandpa!
"I swear, you ARE a real caution!" he said,
setting her on the ground. "Now let's get
back home" and he started down the path.
Sara was lucky she had someone to follow.
She was still sooooo busy looking everywhere.
Especially at the flower stems on both sides of
the path and how they stretched way way way up
and how every time she looked around one of them
there'd be another, rows and rows and rows of them,
enough to make her feel very very very small,
for almost a whole minute!
- - -
P.S. Sara thinks she's a butterfly that a bad witch turned
into a frog. Then a well-meaning, but not very competent,
good witch tried to reverse the spell but ended up turning
her into a tumbling flower beetle (Coleoptera Mordellidae,
probably an Anaspis maculata since she's not that keen on
flying.) Gramps thinks she's crazy, but loves her anyway.)
< and blue >
flesh
and white
and blue
and tiny strings of gold
and black
deep black
- - -
< eyes >
Those rooster-red relics of your eyes,
fevered, stare sightless from your chair.
But they were never frugal nor predictable
and only need the music from the radio
to dance to the flurry of the stage again.
Never frugal or predictable,
those rooster-red relics of your eyes,
fevered, stare sightless from your chair.
Then, with the music from the radio,
dance, to the flurry of the stage again.
While the music dances,
those rooster-red relics of your eyes,
fevered, stare sightless from your chair.
Still, they see the flurry of the stage,
never frugal or predictable,
dancing, with the radio.
Those rooster-red relics of eyes,
fevered, and staring sightless from your chair.
Once, they saw the flurry of the stage,
but here you are, frugal and predictable.
Sitting, just you, and your radio.
- - -
< sidelight >
the nettle and the sweetbriar still grow
back behind where my mom grew raspberries
all i have to do is keep away from the nettles
and get close enough to smell the sweetbriar
and i'm busy filling my soup cans again
and the more i pick the more jam mom can fix
but my stupid little brother uses his cans for drums
"mom! he's getting dirt in the cans again!"
"there's plenty of cans son, you just keep picking"
and i do (though i can't help eating a few)
- - -
< why i call you chocolate >
(i love to eat you)
- - -
< beer bottles >
As we came in to work last week we found the floor of our office
(all 17 cubicles of it) so covered in empty beer bottles that
we could barely see our ugly carpeting and none of us could
figure out how, who, or when someone could have done this
since it's supposed to be a secure web-server area and now,
even a week later, the office still smells like beer (some
of the bottles weren't really that empty) so, of course, all
this week I've been thinking of you and I looked you up on the
web and I was surprised cause there you were (and if this is
not you, well, sorry) so I just had to write and ask you how
things were going, as for me I turned out exactly as you said:
"a nerd doing boring computer stuff and liking it" but I just
LOVED the way you smiled when you said that and hope you don't
think too badly of me cause all it seems I ever did was buy you
beer and get you drunk and try to fuck you but at least I took
out ten times as many beer bottles as I brought in and now this
last week I've gotten all mushy thinking about you and how great
a time I had so I just had to write and see how you were doing
and that wasn't you who put all those beer bottles in our office
was it?
I'll never tell, but Yes, it IS me and don't be so surprised that
I'm on the web and all, I've gotten really good at it since I had
an accident a while back and injured my legs and a boy friend of
mine gave me an old computer of his and set it up to keep me company
while I was recovering (and so he wouldn't have to feel as guilty when
he
left me) but it worked out fine and it's been a real blessing since my
legs don't work that well and I still can't drive but I think that last
part was God getting me off the road before I killed someone but it's
good to hear from you and no, I still think good thoughts of you and
always hoped you hadn't felt too badly about me for drinking all your
beer and if you'd like to come down and visit some time the door's open
(and everything above my knees is still working fine) and you'd even
come
in handy cause it's hard as hell carrying all these beer bottles on
crutches.
- - -
< looking up >
falling that first ten feet was the hardest
after that
it was all downhill
twenty
thirty
fifty
a hundred
it really didn't matter
as long as i kept
that smile
as long as i kept
looking up
- - -
< always joking >
when the talk's
lost its feel
and the deal
becomes real
here's a place
to turn off in:
mother earth
and a coffin
- - -
< in the library of bells >
i was tempted to strike them
"just wait" you said
so i waited
and after years
my hammer
became so heavy
i dropped it
"just wait" you said
and i did
but now
i've lost you
still
there are these bells
silver
and glass
and bronze
and china
all these bells
that
without a hammer
have become
beautiful
- - -
< plastic beads >
You were a neighbor's kid who lived a block over and i
watched you grow up from a block over and i wasn't that
sure of your name until a few days ago and you have ceased
and i'm sitting here at work and these thoughts of you keep
getting stuck in my pile of other thoughts that i get paid
for in this palace of earning, this shrine to being seen
while doing, this turnstile with a counter that adds up
the hours and passes them to accounting which multiplies
them times dollars to get my answer in rent and food and
a heart-shaped waffle-iron that i only used once and some
non-stick pans that stuck and some ice cube trays that didn't
but i can't use them cause there's no room in the freezer
cause it's filled with food i've saved for years and will
never eat so i'm hoping for a long power failure to thaw it
and i need a tornado or a hurricane and not you drunk
teenagers running into my light pole because it only took
the power company four hours to fix their wires and that
wasn't long enough and someone put a small cross up
that got decorated with flowers and letters and poems
and a hair beret with a white cat on it and some
plastic beads they said you got at Mardi Gras.
- - -
< just remember you >
first there was you
and then
there was somebody else
but i try to forget that part
and just remember you
- - -
< Portable Headaches >
Portable headaches aren't commercially viable.
Sears couldn't do it in 1905 and Headache.com's
stock has fallen to 3% of it's July 17th opening
price which doesn't bode well for the 21st
century's ability to profit from this product either.
Analysts, citing the results of extensive surveys,
have concluded that the correct promotional technique
for this product has yet to be discovered.
- - -
< moonflowers >
- mostly edited from a seed catalog
Some flowers
bloom only at night,
when it ends
they hide away.
While others,
that bloom in the day,
seem to glow
in the moon's soft light.
For truely exceptional moonlight gardens,
we recommend the following seeds:
GIANT MOONFLOWER
A fast-growing vine
related to the morning glory,
this annual may climb to 10 feet.
Tightly closed by day,
its white flowers open at dusk
to release a sweet fragrance.
Its flowers can be seen clearly
in moonlight.
PINK EVENING PRIMROSE
A lovely border plant growing to 12 inches
with silky, rose-colored blooms
that deepen to a butter-yellow center.
Opens in late evening
to release a soft fragrance.
JASMINE TOBACCO
A very sweet-scented flowering tobacco
with pure white trumpet-shaped flowers
that open in the evening
and show up well in moonlight.
Very free flowering.
WHITE ANGEL'S TRUMPET
Large, showy, pure-white, trumpet-shaped flowers
that grow 6 to 8 inches long.
They open at night
and may, or may not, be fragrant.
SOUTH AFRICAN DIMORPHOTHECA
This plant only grows 12 inches tall.
Its milky-white blossoms are so pure
they appear to be luminous.
IRISH FAIRY-DREAM
A small, 6-inch-tall plant with tiny,
cup-shaped, silver-white blooms.
On nights in late spring, it is said,
fairies can be seen drinking from them.
Very hardy, easy to grow.
PURE WHITE SPIDER PLANT
A delightful spider plant
that grows about 3 ft. tall.
It has moist pure-white flowers
that glisten in the moonlight.
WHITE NILE FLOWER
An intensely white, 5 inch long, cone-shaped
flower bred from a cache of 3500 year-old
seeds found in the tome of Amenhotep II.
Not native to Eygpt, its origin is probably
lower Africa. Hardy and drought-resistant.
PURE WHITE AFRICAN DAISY
A fast-growing African daisy
with pure-white flowers
and black eyes.
FRAGRANT BRIDAL CARNATIONS
Probably the whitest carnations
you will ever see.
The blooms have a spicy-sweet fragrance
and are absolutely symmetrical.
FEVERFEW
A Native-American herb
with sprays of white,
one-inch-wide, daisy-like flowers.
The flowers are said to repel bees
and a tea made from the plant
is said to relieve headaches.
SUPER WHITE CANDYTUFT
Beautiful large trusses
of brilliant white flowers
on sturdy stems.
Very easy to raise.
WHITE-LEAVED DUSTY MILLER
The foliage of this plant
is fine-leafed and very white.
Good compact growth.
MAYWEED
A gorgeous plant
with fern-like foliage
and white daisy-like flowers.
The leaves
make a relaxing bed-time tea.
- - -
< easy mark >
i was watching the sunset yesterday
and at the time
it seemed quite glorious
but later
i knew i'd been had
- - -
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- 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 fools with
computers, has always been married, loves dogs, and tends
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
so i'll be back in a minute, well, it's been a month and
he's watching the baby raccoons 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
to sell virtual cat and mouse jerky and a little more than
a month later he's back having burned out on e-business
and ready to get back to barking at anything that moves
which, months later, is a five foot king snake that thinks
it's warmer in here than outside and i grab the poodle
before he can chew on it and try to catch it but having
warmed up in the house it's REALLY fast so i explain to
it that it's welcome and all but i'm not about to feed it
so it will just have to fend for itself and, by the way,
watch out for the poodle and if you should ever get up
to massachusetts, say hi to Ilane for me.
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