II want to be respectedWhen it comes to smoking.I am not a chimney.I do not burn coal.Tobacco leaf, bronzed,Is strict pleasure.Not a TV set! IICocaine is OKFor gov’t purposes.Otherwise, just missiles and snow.A body.American Shoe.Impotence.This is the age of the stock market —Born and then risen again! IIISomeone moves behind a screen.Not only is this … Continue reading Ode to RJR –or– The S&P 8
Author: johnbrandall
John Randall is a writer living in Missouri. His interests include camping, running, walking, cutting and burning wood, messing around with magnets, foraging, and listening to podcasts, many of them about baseball.
How the Radiators got Rich
My body is in
perfect balance right now
but I miss all radiators.
We’ll drink together
(said one radiator to another)
and the heating oil inside us
will go up by as much as
thirty-two dollars a barrel.
They both chuckle like wineslaves.
I awake to the sounds of a coup.
Double Future
When I died my life became
Nothing but a reel-to-reel
Of all the dreams I’d ever had.
Nightmares, wet ones, lucidity and flying.
But when I got through with those, my afterlife
Was nothing but the dreams within the dreams.
And now, with that tape flickering
In the empty silence of a classroom,
I’m wishing I’d had at least one dream
Of a dream about a dream.
Misc. Haiku 41-45
41
My favorite poets
Had their own problems—
How reassuring
42
This is just an act
Me sitting here stoned and drunk
In the chair
43
Hey, aren’t the zinnias
Pretty?
Let’s have another drink
44
As I watch The War,
I decide to skip dinner—
The battle of my bulge
45
Bare nail in wall
Where my painting hung—
Now I see the sun
Grain
Night as hard as
The table we sit at.
Once wood the
Table grew old,
Became a table.
Night, pressed,
Becomes morning.
Icebergs
1Hello at the margins.Hello Inuit suntan.That feels very dense to me, water.Grilling heat, goon of history.The ceiling fills with iceBut falls as rain.Oil is the new old gold; again. 2My legs acheWith the memory of beerThis time last night.Altocirrus when I close my eyes.In October it's still too hotFor a comforter. 3Man has changed the … Continue reading Icebergs
Misc. Haiku 36-40
36
Hark! The dog makes the sound
Of someone interested
In my poetry
37
Getting drunk
To the story of Enron—
Alcohol flows like gas.
38
Untamed land
Just waiting to be explored—
From the five hundreds…
39
Swimming the halls of fortune,
Beset by the winnings
Of the greatest generation
40
Macadamia nut
Dusted with imperial
Gunpowder
Misc. Haiku 31-35
31
Flushed Rhine has risen
To welcome our arrival
In the wine-land
32
Skyline sky,
Skybleached sky.
How many times I will describe it
33
Coin empire,
You’re running out of coins—
Guess how I paid for you
34
Sky more blue
Or clouds more white?
What haiku at this height?
35
Heels on a cobblestone street.
Oh, I can’t help
But looking
Lasers
by the cbw Dreams set on recycle Rinse, but not quite repeat Corner, cornea: my eyes seem askew Lost in mazes of my sub- Basement; flooded by torrential tears A race is on but I overslept. Step by leap by bound, I try to recover If a penny was collected by Charon I’d be an unconsciousMillionaire and happy to … Continue reading Lasers
Ezra Ain’t Easy
1
I could’ve gone
to see Pound while he was
still in the hospital.
But my mother-in-law hates him
and it would’ve killed her.
So I just let
the crazyman be;
him & Fords,
Jags, Land Rovers, etc.
2
One of the
must-read poets
said he couldn’t write
with stubble on his chin;
called for
a holiday for writing.
In other words,
a good time
to swear off coffee,
not to get too gassed.
3
Ezra Brooks
bourbon you say you
were drinking.
But why then
do I smell lime
on your breath—
I am not a teetotaller,
not a prohibitionist. I know
there is no cuba libre
for whiskey,
none for fascists
the world around.
JBR.com 