in but realizes he's
missed the last act of Grease.
Old Blue Eyes might make it here if he looked like Bogart in drag.
Like them, Presley was by-passed by the theme of this decade.

There's a fleshy table and chairs with a knock out chick that looks
like my Bridge Over Troubled Waters.
The waiter scowls like vintage Ben Casey.
Beehive hairdos mingle casually with early "Mod."
Rockers wishing Cherry Reds are served drinks instead.
Comfortable sleaze.

The window is up on the future now and New Wave is out to
spray paint graffiti artists all the way.

"Either you are part of the solution or you are part of the
problem." Now there's a sixties homily that still delivers.
Nice to think the social history of three decades is indistinguishable
and that silence comes as its own reward.

SLAUGHTERHOUSE

You're the aggressor
and your passion exceeds mine
but we're in this slaughterhouse together
and it's near closing.

Vats of prickly ointment
destined to repattern animal skin
and tubs of steaming formaldehyde
rest casually with the more antiseptic
thrill of green sawdust.

Blood is a chameleon, here, changing colours
en route to sausage and Pram but
my hotdogs and donuts are
holding better to the cuttlefish
in this unnatural forest.

The stars are a jangle of planets
in a world where wood became noise;
each ceiling beam, incidentally,
is the wrenched out spine
of a Longhorn steer,
doorknobs pig knuckles
bound for Octoberfest fear.
Even the kindly attendant is an
ogre spying out porkers' throats;
will sit under a bridge
then capsize crates
of young chickens
knife ready at hand.

The squeal of this bovine camp
is recycled on 40 watt amps
through more than decibels of rage;
is a fishly contest designed
to trade off gruel
for fresher prospects.

One armed forklift drivers, for instance,
with realistic Captain Hook hands
jab instructions to
lifeless walls where
underlings the colour of grey slate
form a human paste.

Sound is the monetary exchange,
rabbit dung the troll's own currency--
each scrawl of the pen
confirmed by the work order
upends living things bent over in pain.

LAVENDER

A mind is a ray of light running to the sea;
an arch of wood upon which birds rest.

Minds roam the ocean's crest, sit as antlers upon a beach,
watch eddies of water trap t