Advice for living in the city: Look both ways before crossing. Avoid pet shops and ‘pet’ causes. Be cautious around producers. “Don’t drink, don’t smoke” (Gramma said). Careful where you eat. Know the difference between REACT and RESPOND and when in each case. Recognize an opportunity vs. a scam (trust your gut). Pray! meditate on The WORD. Share the love of God in Christ. “The last shall be first and the first shall be last.” Amen.

~c. PS: Have fun!

The cat has no cream..our skinny white cat! is wasting away. The trucks that used to bring the cream have no gasoline. They want us all on bicycles! so they take away the trucks, to make clean the air! But how does that help? and bicycles cannot bring the cream for too many cats. We shall have not so many cars, soon, and soon, we shall have no cats! Our poor skinny cat, has lost all his fat, he still has hair and that’s all, his hair..the colour of cream. Maybe mamma mouse will share her milk! weeth heem, name is Kracker. The white cat. ~Folksongs, from Transylvania, USA

~c.

The dog, –the dog is an emotional wreck, I tease her by paying too much attention to the cat! Then she brings me her toys, one by one, to make me look at her. So I look at my phone. That doesn’t bother her as much. But the cat, the cat! the dog’s an emotional wreck, she’s a wreck, the dog is. And the cat? The cat’s a cat. And that’s that.

~c. Ps: The stores are out of dog-food.

“Thump!” Canoe onna freeway, “Thump-a-thump!” ashes, paper-cup’s; traffic-jam typewriters, –All fall down! strewn about, ‘n’ all around, black! ROYAL speed-bumps, blossoming white flags of surrender, flapping, snappily, at half-mast, poems..half-written, –typed! corrections, pencilled in, falling off cars’ million roofs driven by POETS drivel! driving past Culver City, without a poet’s-license, westbound for Santa Mont-i-ca, the beach, –Drive on! drive on! Oh..I see a tree! my poet-canoe’s being paddled up Dry Creek off 101 n., see? ‘n’ that’s what I could use her,HERE! good paddling, for piddling..piddling, hear? piddling – her’n’there,’n’ev’rywhere – ‘way the hours passed, piddling..past El Segundo, billboard to the left: LUCKY STRIKE! drilling for oil in rush hour’s marsh, thee HOUR GANG gang, pen in hand, –‘Scribblingfuries’, oriental cat with his poets’ chop’s, reaches for lunch-box with a picture of Mao ‘n’ Roy Rogers..Ow! poet-commuters/consumers – all stripes – aimless, idealess ideologues, idlers rolling, rolling ‘long with Big Chief Lockstep’s concrete caravan, “Woo-woo! Woo-woo!” heading down Rose Parade’s nowheres. Blue woman, HER! vaulted cavernous sky-scape tipi; eagle feathers ‘n’ war-cries, Hoops! smoke-signal’s sunrise reflecting in tunnels, beam’d from walls of glass..golden, bending lights to heaven! kecking, sodden eyeballs to curb..hunger, –who, me? what..when..who? Why! it’s Tom O’Hawks, fine Irish poet and none other. Step up to the plate, young brave one, and show ’em what you got..Drive-thru Strike-out’s ‘n’ poetry-slam’s, –“Hey! batter, batter..” The pitch! Batter, batter..the pancake batter, it’s on my chest! my red-hot poet’s heart’ll, do the rest, –REST? Spatula! flipping spirits!! silver dollars..and coffee, no rest (Ughh). Can we wrest this poem from my brain? (Sigh) it’s not the best. Road’s rage, poets’ rage, –rage,RAGE! it’s all the rage, it’s just..are going through a stage. All the world IS

‘s ~c. Ps: a stage, and all the poets, well..it’s a struggle, you know. Just do your best (God hears a poet’s fears).

THE COW-PIE, A poem (of the SUPER-natural!) Once, upon an estuary, while I drifted past a dairy, hear the milk-cows, “Moo..moo-moo!” All at once their MOOs grew silken, milk-machines begun a-milkin’, labour I’d be loath to do, a job! I’d deign not do. WOULD YOU?? Quoth the poet, “Boo, hoo, hoo.”

~c. Ps: There’s more but I’ll skip it.

SIRS: Poem seeks POET! FOR fantastic fun LIFE. Must be mature and free to travel. Me: Unfinished..craftily conceived by the stroke of a pen! multi-lingual and verse-a-tile, A-hem! full of surprises and inventions, but not! appreciated by the general poetry loving public, –LOVE! meditating with the monks; swimming with cetaceans deep in ocean rivers; or simply hanging – pendulously – on a rope off the side of a cliff making love with the MOON! boxing shadows over the crispy waves; and if we fall in the abyss, C’est la vie! Sinatra, you..You: Unpublished, unemployed, and underrepresented, –living in Mom’s basement? with a guitar and harmonica; and two or three chords and a cat..or glockenspiel, YOU! are a heroic someone who dares to take risks, dauntless! unafraid of the social ostracization, –or any other thing! intimately familiar with the sting of rejection’s up close and personal, even..feckless DEATH! repeatedly!! slings, arrows, and all of the rest of it..spear-guns. Your durability’s legendary (with the cop’s), your sensitivity to aRT’s, one of the Modern Wonders! Me? I’m yours! you’re my ‘Billy’ Shakespeare and I shall be, your muse, amused? To-do’s: 1) Make contact, –Write me down on a scrap of loose paper in your typical scrawl, doctor-ily, straight from the heart..ad libitum! no scratch-out’s or second guesses permitted; for extra points, dust off the old ROYAL portable, insert a sheet – standard 8 1/2 x 11 – and..type it up! 2) Delicately, enter me in the next Poetry Contest comes rolling down the tracks like a desirous streetcar, plunging into that “..dark and stormy night.” and see what beautiful music we make together, according to, –Them! NEA, NPR..FBI? &NASA; or any of the other 50+ SO-CALLED experts..nincompoops! Oy!! and – next stop – Si! the presidents hanging the prized golden medal upon your proud neck in the White House Reception Area..hoary head bent down, chin tucked in chest, eyes squeezed shut (in ecstasy) to receive due recognition, Ach! long overdue, actually, –’cause we’re so good together! you and me, what a great relationship!! without you, I could not BE! YOU are thee greatest poet!! I adore you..you, you,YOU! Love, Your Poem

~c. Ps: THANKS! you been a great audience. Pps: I shot a poem in the air..where it fell? it’s in your hair.

Looking down, through an aperture, unruly white hair, and whiskers..jaws of a cave! at blackness, nothing. Mind is a blank. Brain wants to see something so it notices nondescript Coffee-cup cradled in hoary Hands. This is the same view HE has seen since time immemorial, since YOUTH, now receding to the VERIZON with a mild, melodramatic flair and that, instantly..from School days and WILD IN THE STREETS, to morning farrts, –The Big Deal of the Day, nowadays. Coffee, Black..with White cat, Steve’s cat. Steve in heaven. We shared a lot together, me and my old friend, routinely running afoul of the local authorities as well as state and fe’rrels..in partnership, strong union, against the necessary evil in our mists; and in the thick of things we had each others’ back, shared each others’ dreams..and set-backs, always helped (each other, with problem-solving, –when dealing with The Governemnt to try and do something they’re making you do, there’s always some trap-door you fall through and wind up paying way more than you bargained for, far more than was initially demanded..a set-up). Steve was the only human who faithfully suffered my constant outflows of poetry and the continuous revisions of it, bore them with cheer, and good grace; and a stoicism that can only happen when you’re dealing with a person..descended from the Greeks. CHAPTER TWO..

Chapter 2 I remember the county. It’s not really personal with them, nothing is..unless you make it that; but it always feels personal, even though, when you break it down it’s not, the devil is in the details. And it’s only about the money; it’s always been about the money, and power over the underservedContinue reading “Looking down, through an aperture, unruly white hair, and whiskers..jaws of a cave! at blackness, nothing. Mind is a blank. Brain wants to see something so it notices nondescript Coffee-cup cradled in hoary Hands. This is the same view HE has seen since time immemorial, since YOUTH, now receding to the VERIZON with a mild, melodramatic flair and that, instantly..from School days and WILD IN THE STREETS, to morning farrts, –The Big Deal of the Day, nowadays. Coffee, Black..with White cat, Steve’s cat. Steve in heaven. We shared a lot together, me and my old friend, routinely running afoul of the local authorities as well as state and fe’rrels..in partnership, strong union, against the necessary evil in our mists; and in the thick of things we had each others’ back, shared each others’ dreams..and set-backs, always helped (each other, with problem-solving, –when dealing with The Governemnt to try and do something they’re making you do, there’s always some trap-door you fall through and wind up paying way more than you bargained for, far more than was initially demanded..a set-up). Steve was the only human who faithfully suffered my constant outflows of poetry and the continuous revisions of it, bore them with cheer, and good grace; and a stoicism that can only happen when you’re dealing with a person..descended from the Greeks. CHAPTER TWO..”

Eyeball, golden eye..eye, Innes’ fishbowl looks at ‘Goldie’ Fisch, flatly swimming, looking (seeing, –?) through glass, rhymes with..SASS, don’t back-sass! you, um, you, –uh-oh, poetry!! have, some respect..for your elders, thee elder poet’s (bad dog’s! sic ’em!!) The glass, holding the water bright, clear, contained all in a mass, unified waves wiggles light about the goldfish’s liquid..flight! suspended, jiggly translucent boun-daries, seeing, fish-eye lenses, –electro-magnetic forces flow – from somewhere – in wires to coil copperhead bursting telephone’s bell..bubbles! does FISH hear it ring? at liberty, in his lil ol’ world, his make-believe kingdom, in the sea?? Si??? See, I’ve had these questions for some time, on my mind, but never gotten ’em answered..yet! I worked around food, once, around the clock, –I rocked, part time surfer, see? sea rider! when I was younger with no hair on my chinny chin-chin and was bunk-mates with ‘Humphrey’ up north in nineteen-eighty-five (we resided down at Neptune’s Youth Hostel, in thee inne together, til he split for a jag east up the ‘Sacramento’..and they couldn’t turn him ’round, –“NOW DON’T YOU LET THE POLITICIANS..TURN YOU ‘ROUND, TURN YOU ‘ROUND, TURN YOU ‘ROUND! NOW DON’T YOU, LET THE POLITICIANS, TURN YOU ‘ROUND, MARCHIN’ IN THE FREEDOM BA-A-AND..A-hem!”) So, –But I was told, then, to do that (the food service) I must wear a hair-net, it’s the law! Wot? Goldfish swimming in eyeballs ocean, oceans ballroom seems to understand..a net! a net, placed meticulously on one’s head, Annette, can only send ah, a message: TODAY you will not find a hair in your precious soup or goldfish’s bowl, Whoop-dee-doop-dee-doop! our ancestral hole, at Anathoth – Loop-da-loop – here’s her LAGOON! “Shoo-bop! shoo-bop! WHOO!” where lawyers came from (primordial broth); and – Kennedy said it once – “If one is enslaved, then all are not free.” JFK..See? So what then? should we all be wearing our goverrment hair-nets be-cause of the flu? the asiaTIC flu?? so it won’t spread, even on a thin slice of nice and sturdy, grainy white/wheat bread (to me&you); or, like a whale will we be, for-ever caught..in Annette? i wonder. Bach’s fishbowl contained no fish, but a (infinite) variety of musical notations in abundance, there, swimming in his fat, bar-o-quee head he, the leading Kapellmeister, put’em all down on paper..whale of a score them was, –Saint John’s Passion, for one, ’nuff said? Well..Alexander’s ragtime naval forces band found their way, THERE! where bam-boo orientals’ rickety boats wantonly sailed thee uncharted waters in nasty&foul weather’s a-like and beat the Hindoo’s there, thee Injuns (but no squalls); but in the end it killed um, –like they always do. Simply put his golden goldfish brain could not contain all of Persia’s charms, and schemes – he held some in his arms (perchance, dream) – to forge his worldly kingdom, bought through a new bloodline..with fancy wives THAT was the plan; and never again to see the Athenians’ coast he loved so dear, –he was a sort of god to all of them..Greeks! (he said so, and they said, “Yeah whatever whatever works..Dude”); and that same failure, of identity I suppose, was one of Caesar’s, too..in a sense. Senses lie, kings lie; rugs, the Persian rugs, they do lie, and so do I, I lie – I lie like a rug (Pers’an my lips!) – ‘neath the hostile searing sun that regards me not! no, not ’til the battle’s won, except to get me a sunburn and not a tan, why! because I-europeancaucasiancolony-boy, born ‘n’ bread, of corn..of course! corn-bred..like I said. And even, if CAREFULLY under sun’s rays like roasting marshmallow’s (courtesy of Egyptians and their, hole-istic healing scien-ces, on a shtick, Oy!) I turn not swarthy and brown, like they..like the suntan-products-for-sultans ad’s suggest (or imply); but burst in flames and blacken! as was the case, legendary! so to speak, of the un-prison’d Icarus, Son of Dedaluszilla, ex-caped! box-kiting it, with flaming arrows whizzing by on cool afternoon’s summer breeze, and crash-landing, “Summer breeze, makes me feel fine!” in the Mediterranean, –see? on the rocks, what! WHY? ’cause wings of wax will not do, no! no, never, not for me, and not for YOU! the hot wax, the hot AMARICAN wax. Well, that’s it..let’s end this doggerel now, once and for all (for now..for all you poet dogs), and go and visit, a Z00! and see the animals, including snakes there, –their all, like..wow. [Sic]

~c. Ps: Return my forever..Please! Pps: Find-a the poem’s in the pizza..and save the whales. Of course!

Q: Given all the Socio-economic political terrorisms BEING LEVERAGED against us..what with The covid, COV! COV! and all, can we ever look forward and expect to have another deal like the WOODSTOCK arts&musci festival, peace&luv?, –ANSWER: YES, It’s handled, It’s been arranged, LIVE! TONITE ONLY: DEAD SUSPECTS..BRAY-FART..SHEEP THRILLS! LOS CONTAMINANTES; y Los Vatos! Plus Special Guests: TEN-4; also, THE SAMUEL DRUCKER EXPERIENCE (More to be announced as the ‘artists’ continue to get signed, don’t miss it, this the concert of the century..tickets, while they last!)

~c. ps: Just added! IVORY and the SOAP-SCUMS&INT 0’ERNIT and the DOT-COMMIES..Thanks you’ve been a great audience

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