pacobooks

Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump!

Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump!

Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!

Piglet

Re: poem VI: Duck as a warning- we don’t wanna get hit by the flying head (see TRICYCLE/The Buddhist Review, Fall, 1996, p. 91 for data on this).

And if breech equals buttocks, then we understand the connection with the part of a firearm at the end of the barrel. Most any breach (or breech) is worth dissolving, or at least deconstructing.

I

A voice from behind
Each post
Flashes of light
Riddled with color

Colors of unimagined
Shapes
And no idea of
How many posts there are

Over hill & dale
Until the trench
Posts stop there
Past begins

Voices from the past
All going at once
Didn’t listen then
To one another

Won’t now.

II

When the Firenges
Knock on the door
What’s it fer

This fir tree
Went out with a
Skunk
Came home with fur
Between the teeth

Chase so mitigated
By the show on the
Sides of the tunnel
Where the fire engines
Come whine & knock on
The doors

This gavel plays a
Formidable block
No Firenge dares to
Lay a finger on it

The craze of self
Mutilation
May yet set in

A swing on a nickle
A big ear.

III

Is the Being in a bone
The same as the Being
In a bee

Or do we think crooked &
Run around guilty waving
Dollar bills wanting to
Pay the judge

Judge has a pillow on
Her lap
What’s below what’s
Beneath

That Being’s a monster for
Mothers to collect rhyme
Sinking rhyme next to the
Side of the bed

Master took the fragrance
Sold it into slavery
Docks buckled under the
Weight of it

Eyeballs surfaced floated
Around
Seeing what they still see

Bones & flesh & etc.
Became part of the sand.

IV

Ever since Harry (I’d like to
Give his last name but you’ll
See why I can’t)

Ever since Harry who lent me
His math homework each morning
For the whole first semester of
Our senior year

He sat in front of me in homeroom
Kept mostly to himself & didn’t like
The idea at all of helping me
Cheat

We became slight friends in the
Process & I can see it now like
These keys on this page
Putting our stuff away in our
Side-by-side lockers just before
Christmas (of 1949 if you must know)

I’d been worrying about time for
Some time & I looked at him & said
Harry we’ll be right back here like
That & I made a click Harry grim
Aced jacked lower

We waved goodbye the click
Went on a bit I may well have
Felt warmer than he did
The click’s throb was short
In any case standing at our lockers
Putting stuff back in I say
Well Harry he gives me a dark eye
Says

You ruined my vacation
Flat voice no eyes
What can I do I said to myself
I need that homework & I
Touched him on the arm
For a long instant

No more time shit were just
About the last words I heard him
Say
We’d nod he’d hand me the pages
I’d distort them in a clever way
(You’d pass if you turned your
Homework in no matter what)

We shook hands at graduation
Warmly I hope he
Reads this.

V

Groping for names
Pinching salad
Through a fence

Dark creases in the
Streets
Swallowing stuff
Whole

Dull orange voice
From window
Chew yer damn carrot &
Swallow it

Village Swallows sail
Out of another
They never tire &
Don’t need names

He swallows a
Name not his
At table in a cafe

Three days later
At the edge of the sea
This same name
Frightens the fish.

VI

Someone’s Quack Buddha
Like the final fold of the
Kreplach to the
Neurotic kid
Who then screams as
Anyone would
Seeing the popular duck’s
Arrogant head
Floating near the
Buddha’s belly &
That serene head
Sailing off sideways
Heading out of the picture.

VII

Of coarse
Liter_____ is
Dead

Save for a rainy
Those times
Ah-so-brief
When words knock about
In the air
Before coagulation

EVOLUTION
NOITULOVE

Last chant as follows

EN VO OI LT UU TL IO OV EN

Then

NE OV IO TL UU LT OI VO EN

Sounds never die
They just fade.

VIII

Never lost
Aligned with the
Dead letters
Shrunk as some have done
Till strangled &
Flashing that erection
In final shuddering

Has the coming

Craned necks

Herons of some
Imagination

Smaller darkish birds
Fighting for the perch
A top of mighty pole

Herons below watch the
Fuss on loving water’s
Surface & hope the
Fish won’t go
Into hiding.

IX

Zero
Zero under
Zero under the blanket

Clear
As to what this is
The Twelve Hats circle around
Drop into perfect alignment
One shape into another

Nepenthe now
We the envisioned
Nepenthe sweet

On an old mirror
Loose white letters

SEPTEMBER 27, 1998

Last thing seen as
Pain slips away
Large box standing tall
On thin stick legs.

X

Who’s to mutilate the
Box the box of crackers the
Box of cereal the box of ears

Box as in female as in oh I
Had her box in my hand
Fantasy only no box at all
When really there

Cardboard ones waiting patiently
Anxiously for a clever opening a
Subtle prying a soft entrance at
Least a careful one

Rip her apart tear fracture
The Female Boxsides making
Goddesses of this territory
Waiting for the asses of the
Molestors
Having collected shreds of
What Was Done

Bridge sings a music all can hear
Box loosing her top gives only
To the naked hands who
Having lost their eyes briefly
See not what they rape

Boxtops need a certain order
He’ll take the top’s furry edge
Should she deny him a kiss
Near the nipple.

XI

Sinful Sigh Man
Meta-pie
Man
Go ing to
The Fair

Said Sinful Sigh Man
To the Pie Man
Lemme taste your
Ware

Unbutton buttons
Pull garments down
The fly the leaf the
Cone

Backside’s bare &
Tired of watching
Watch on a chain
Minute hand missing

Hour’s here & now
What more do you
Want.

XII

If a cat
At least some creature
Were the consciousness
The whole of it not
Just one slice

That being would know
All languages & when
Whoever or
Whatever spoke
Even if all at once
There’d be full
Understanding

Stone is aware &
Doesn’t have to carry on
Much
Talk with you in the
Softest sounds
You’ve ever heard

Like it or not
Stone’ll absorb you
Sooner or later.

XIII

Heads swinging on
What looks like a
Vine

Gourds no sucker-fingered
Sticky things for hair &
Collars

All over the porch
All over her

My spider laughs itself
To sleep

Can’t prosper without a
Love of vines without a
Good horse somewhere

Daytime’s reflections get
Bent on Sundays
Mainly from the solace of
Extinguished repenting

An organ on a red ground
A pump organ
Candlestick holders at the
Ends of the keyboard
Whole bunch of stops

Few quanta this moment with
Faces of their own.

XIV

Did she
     She didna
She say a thing
     Go kiss my echinda
Too spiney for me
     Any spiney’s a breach
Good for walls of no-mind
     Spotless
She have a duck-filled platypussy
Too no
     Tune-O yes in song
     Duck-filled doubtful
You never said her name right
     Our bed’s too big I always
     Got lost
Out of range
     Gave her pooch an insult
     She peed on my foot
Who peed
     They both did.