Blueberry

Growing on the misty mountains
of Acadia National Park -
small little blue beads of
sweet fruit stuff -
I think of the girl carted
out of Wonka World turning
into a blueberry-
I think of Boo Berry cereal
from my youth, though
I can't recall if it was
blueberry based
but the ghost seemed happy enough
as if the cereal was blueberry taste-
I think of my brother
who they said loved blueberries
so much as a baby & ate so
many that he grew out to resemble one-
then they showed me the pictures
to prove it & he still remains
the plumpiest baby I've ever seen-
I think of the time in the mist
On the mountain
Exhausted from the strenuous hike.
Moisture clinging to everything
And there in the cracks of
the boulders & rocks
vines had been creeping
to breathe
and their breath is blueberries
and I run my fingers along the vines
softly collecting a big handful
and in one motion
all those small little blue beads of
sweet fruit stuff
get tossed in my mouth
and I become the girl in Wonka World
and I become the Boo Berry Ghost
and I become the plumpest baby
and I become the doe on the
mountainside silently
munching on the vine's breath
and I become a little blue bead of
sweet fruit stuff.

Estimated Prophet - May 8th, 1977 - Barton Hall, Cornell University

Big Bad Wolf
lickin the screen
between
you and me
Not only this you and me
but all You's and Me's
Cuz it's about the sreen
which the Big Bad Wolf licks
and not too gently either.
There is some slop.
Spit bubbles like galaxies
Slide about the screen
in organic amoeba movements
First chaos.
Then order.
Then a Na-Na-Na...
and the Wolf begins to fade
but leaves one last bark
before disappearing
once again
into the darkness of you.

The Boxer and The Mind

The clock blinks 4:11
Though I know it's wrong.
It's twenty-three minutes slow.
More like 4:34-
Now :35-
Which certainly looks different
And mechanically feels different.
Outside I read a story
which has a narrator revealing
The story of himself. He, the narrator,
as the main character
Of the third person narrative.
And in it describes a version of reality
Involving a "primordial" twin who dies
Leaving The Mind left for eternity
To reconstruct the world in her
Life & Death image
When out of the lawn
Springs a boxer, brown fur
Patched white, chain collar
rattling like the gray sky above
The Master all the while
yelling - Come ON! -
On the other side of the lawn
The Boxer wags his tongue in
Absolute frenzied madness
Wanting to do one thing
and one thing only -
RUN - Move - Be so free that
It jumps out of its skin.
And the Boxer would not listen
to his Master calling.
I patted him as he passed
And he nuzzled his nose,
Softly fatty warm flesh
of dog lips and dog nose
rubbed on my toes.
I just had to laugh.
- Come ON! - from beyond
The Boxer continues in some circles
Near me & I offer to grab his chain.
At the sound of my whistle Boxer
turns my way once again and laps against
me with his body and tail.
I make for the chain which he
dodges, turns, & sprints back to
Master all in one movement.
Yet The Boxer doesn't go to Master still.
But rather the Run continues beyond
my line of view and I leave Master
- Come ON!'ing -
In the late afternoon.