Nearly two years after I went to see my friend Phil in Arkansas, I have finally typed up my account of the trip. He was in home hospice in Russellville, accompanied by his father. Phil passed away about a month after I was there.
Tag: Phil
Reunion
You wanted to get the old band back together.
But we didn’t even have a band.
All we did was
sit around and drink
and talk
and smoke.
We played music
but it was music other people recorded
onto compact discs
and then sold to us.
Yeah, we’d go to venues.
There were crowds,
not drawn by us.
And there’d be bands there,
but not our band.
None of us wrote any songs.
None of us sang.
We didn’t even have any instruments...
Read the full poem and the slightly longer original version here...
Fervent Ye Faithful
by Phil Williams
whither you come from
-or-
the magic eight-ball
i venture into something, it's a mind-blower, but i gotta keep it under wraps for j-rand.
see: i had envisioned a wry conversation/transcription that was intertwined. red-vines
and mr. pibb; chronicles.
adjacent antecedent (i.e. addendum): the spatial discrepencies had been a problem, but
the chronological shifting was downright vexing. first it was 2004, then 2007, then 2003,
the years and specific dream ramblings resemble a rorschach test; it's another brick in
the wall.
the wood desired chasing, and the family desired spaghetti. sorry, but my thoughts get
confused, like waves in the midnight surf. german balloon aka led zeppelin: it parks its
dreams @ ground zer0. eros may have called, but failed to identify himself, leading me
to this shell of thoughts. it could be an atkins of fiction.
outra-verted, a word i wordlessly think when i encounter 'yar.' i consider the rivulet to
my s(l)ide, but conclude she's w/ the tall man. i'm obviously hallucinating. the police
have arrived and i've simply said the word 'plant.'
realizing i had entered a house of mirrors and drugs, i texted j. still and nick s. they
were part of my cleaning crew in the mid 90's. i suddenly understand that i'm alone and sweating,
in a basement, no shaman. the disorientation slowly dissipates and my carb-stricken mind intuits
the next phase may require an umbrella, inverted.
Goes Away
Where one leak seemed fixed, another springs up. Well, isn’t that the way it goes? Stained wood, stained mattress. Damp kitchen, scary room.
Stove going. I was in the dirty attic. Three-legged chairs, canceled checks, dauber nests by the hundred. I go up there because the attic is my place to intercept the rain that finds its way through the farmhouse’s old, fallible roof. Like me, the rain keeps returning, keeps coming back to this remote piece of cattle country in the middle of the state.
A mist rises from the pasture, hangs there like a cloud. Above, the sky is clear. There is, thank God, no wind. It is still. I can hear nothing but the nothing that is, the nothing that once will be everything. If you would be so kind as to scatter my ashes here. If you would allow me to play the part of the sandstone, to let the water through.
The mice are back. Two traps, old cheese, picked clean. Leave the droppings where they lay. Wise rodents. Re-bait, try again...
A short missive from Farm, from late last year...
That’s Just the Way it Works
Join me mad man, pony boots, crustacean belt, pontoon beached. Answer again, forget it. Bulletin board bimbo, police sausage. I talked to Phil today, I talked to Phil today. It wasn't a wash, we really, rarely talked.
"Yeah, you’ve got an egg in there for protein, that’s good. But… ."
Big thread I recall was me (and perhaps Brook and Ray but maybe just me) surrounded by a setting of war. Either civil war or invasion of the homeland. I/we went on something of a recon mission but maybe we were just trying to get away from where we were. Anyhow, we got caught. They … Continue reading "Yeah, you’ve got an egg in there for protein, that’s good. But… ."
Frisbee Golf
Was assigned to cover a golf tournament. Lots of players. I actually got out on the course. But then they were throwing frisbees not hitting golf balls. One of the frisbees hit me and I was embarassed. On the third hole, I lost them. Fell asleep or something. Phil Williams was around. I was gonna … Continue reading Frisbee Golf
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


