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      Disassociation

 

Gawaine Caldwater Ross

 

Some people dash through fire,

Others plunge through ice.

Is Reality the only thing

If Chaos is the king?

Ring all your golden Christmas bells,

The sewer rats still dance.

Then the ice they buy and sell

Will wind up in your drinking glass,

All muddied and black,

That iridescent toxicity

In which the ship is lost.

The mutineers choose weapons

And toss the captain overboard

To feed her to the barracuda

By the reefs of broken glass –

Each mirrored fragment seizes nightlight

And cast werelit visions

Of her home bleeding, collapsing

As the boulders fall dead center.

She goes into her heart and mind

Which remind her of departing kin

Who told her of the doom that wheezes

Down the orchard’s razor walks.

-Too cold?—We’ll leave this

Television frame behind

To go and seek the whip  instead.

The radio commander never stops,

Hilarity dances with dank despair,

Barefoot through the hot springs,

Mudslides block the view.

She seeks a serpent that doesn’t bite

And settles for a badger’s den

With herself as Joan of Arc,

Cinderella, and the Virgin Mary

Or a raven squawking over food.

She has to shout in a crowded train

“Rubber plantation workers

Beat seedless grapes!

Venus is being invaded by dogs!”

 

--Gawaine

 

 

 

We get mail--

Dear Mr. Guthrie -

 

I've been enjoying Chickasaw Plum immensely for a while and thought I'd send you a few poems for consideration.

 

Thank you much for taking a look at them. Continued success with your excellent and powerful magazine.

 

All best,

Doug Draime

 

Thanks Doug. Here it is:

 

Doug Draime has been a presence in the 'underground' literature movement since the formative 1960's. He was part of the notorious Los Angeles poetry scene of the latter 20th century. Most recent books include: "Spiders And Madmen" (Scintillating Publications) and "Eyestone" (Kendra Steiner Editions). Forthcoming "Dancing On The Skids" from Tainted Coffee Press. His diverse range of writing, including poetry, short stories and plays continue to appear in publications worldwide. He currently resides in Oregon.

 

 

Right & Wrong

 

Only you

Could have

Said that

& gotten

Away

With it.

 

If the

Bullets

Weren’t

Flying &

The bombs

Weren't

Dropping &

The blood

Wasn’t 

Running &

The rats

Weren’t

Biting &

If you & I

Weren’t

Dying

I would say

You had

No right

To say

I misjudged

Things.

 

 

The Night Before

 

For the first Buddhist monk

who burned himself to death

in protest of the Vietnam war

 

I witnessed it all at

the beginning of day,

starting with cold confused

hands,

along the floor of dirty   

pine.

faraway bleeding cries

broke thru

with a self-mocking glee.

i had no open 

clues to the exploding

night before: there was no

one holding my heart,

no trouble pouring 

inward.

i was dared to destroy

the scene,

& i did it all without

a shudder

in a few words spoken

at the madness of 

us all,

i blew up all the black hearts

of time.

 

 

Down By Ten Mile Creek

 

No indoor plumbing and

nada electricity.

A shot gun, or 30-30

in every rusted out pickup truck.

Most not quite certain

of their biological parents,

as they run the major

businesses, churches,

and bars

in the white trash ghetto.

Dilapidated schools and

skin heads and

Aryan Brotherhood burning

down houses for

the insurance money.

Prostitution conducted out the back door

of a prominent

funeral home and you can get embalmed,

any thrill you crave for

a 20 dollar bill and

a corroded pipe of meth.

 

 

Tin Cans

In Memory Of Ray Charles

 

 

I was 15 or 16

when you were helped

from the stage in

Indianapolis, mumbling

incoherently and later

arrested for “narcotics possession”,

partying at the Claypool Hotel.

On that night I was only a 100 miles away

in Vincennes,

playing “What’d I Say” at full volume

on my 45 RPM,

using 2 large empty potato chip cans

as conga drums.

Dazed, and a little messed up

from some Thunderbird wine I had

smuggled up to my room.

And more than a little bummed-out.

over having missed seeing you.

Half way through the song, my grandfather

flung the door open,

yelling at me to turn that nigger shit down.

The next day after I heard about your bust,

I came home from school

got out my cans and played you again,

at full volume, finishing off the wine.

No one was home and I played that song

at least 15 times.

That afternoon changed me forever, man.

But the wine, with just a little food on my stomach, 

made me sleepy and I took a long nap.

I had a dream I’d made it to your concert,

that you played your full set fully conscious,

with 3 encores, and you were not arrested afterwards -

perish the thought.

And the next morning you were given the key to the city

and a lavish gala dinner

put on by the Indiana chapter of the KKK,

bowing and scrapping at your feet.

 

 

Note: "Tin Cans" first appeared in Struggle magazine.

 

 

 

 

The Chickasaw Plum  -  Volume V - Number 6 - June 2008

 

 

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