Raptthere is a man who lives inside my mind
his name is Porocephyrous
but he goes by Doro Tanen usually
and Doro likes simplicity
he lives in a red room
the light is always red there
and he is a jovial fellow
the way a hickory axe handle
is jovial when combined with
a fifth of Jack
sometimes he listens
but mostly he talks
rarely can I dissuade him
when he's on a mission
to throw a wrench into my life
i get the feeling
that Doro has been around
a long, long time
his tenure on earth reaching back
farther than i care to know
he knows the levers to pull
overloading the gears till they
scream as tendrils of smoke
rise amid showers of electric red sparks
Doro deals in fear and anger
like Jesse dealt in lead
unlike that storied outlaw
Doro isn't dead
many are the tools he wields
instruments of ruin
the cardinal sins he knows by rote
his very bread and butter
Doro doesn't usually shout
his purposes are sly
he'd rather lead you in
i never underestimate
DynamoInstalled and forgotten in a cavern of steel
While seasons fled the haunted skies
Behind the panes another dies
Its wires are twisted; its sheathing corroded
Lamps extinguished awaiting the workmen
Who never returned to their indentured slave
Who can know what dreams it harbors
Rotting inside those copper-clad towers
Bleeding acid into the floor
This machine won't respond when called
Biding its time in dust-choked nowhere
Letting the decades rush by with cold hate
Once there was hope for resuming its efforts
But that time is gone
And now is too late.
Smokestack LightningTowering above the cauldrons
Where steel is conceived and formed
Piercing the skies / brutish and brazen
Stands the smokestack
Blind lighthouse of a damned shore
Where the wrecks of men never rest
Toiling to Mammon's demands
In chains of exploited need
Herald of filthy tides
No warning of rocks to delay
The inevitable crash of man against Time
Salvaged by Misery and Ruin
A Vision of SnowEphemeral kingdom of crystalline white
Shielding our sight from decay and rust
Light was found with child by water
In essence cold and bright.
Burnished copper pylons
Scream their brilliance to the Sun
Massive girders remain below
The color of industrial green
Their brawn and permanence
Always there but rarely seen
Circling the radius of Atlantic and Pacific
Eclipsing the foundation of brute clay
Though a cousin of that first rib
Preferring the delights of ecclesiastical space
Flutes trilling Alpine symphonies echoing in
Darkened forests, shedding light on nursery rimes
BreadGift of the third Heaven
Wrought by the sweat of our brow
Sufficient for the day at hand
Broken in humility
Parted to strengthen bonds
Rests not on its ancient laurels
Rather it accompanies the fish
To feed the lost and hungry.
ice fishing: circa 1982white bucket simple rods red bobbers ice scoop
clamber in 1977 slant six blue dodge
arrive smelling the snow like a dream
walking tall across the ice no fear
sit by the hole waiting
hands red raw burning smiling grins
eight years old north pole dreaming vast
tin pail ice scoop sitting granddad pipe tobacco
black ice with blue-veined cracks
polar eternity each ridge an adventure
old blue pickup granddad at the wheel
lonely red sun black pine shadows over snow
washboard ride to home quiet country music local AM
cold happy boots unlaced waiting to return like old sailors
hungry for their sea-bride
dampers opened fire kindling crackles lustily
hard salami saltines tap water mustard pickled bologna
roger mudd reassuring fidelity calm static commercial
granddad briar pipe carter hall tobacco quietly puffing fragrant reality
strength that will never fail beyond surety beyond question beyond imagination
of anything else
to bed to sleep at peace
Synthetic Legend 23"I tell you, it will work."
"A random, arbitrary tale?"
"Oh authentic! Always authentic."
"Then how can you 'create' a legend from thin air?"
"Let me illustrate for you."
"There once was a cow that spied the moon..."
Shining in her stall
She mooed at it and expecting no reply
Returned to the dreams cows may have
When suddenly the moonlight dimmed for an instant,
Like a blink of an eye.
This cow, named Millie by the farmer's eight year old granddaughter,
Turned her head to peer through the barn window
Astonishingly, it happened again. The moon winked at her!
Well, this required further investigation.
Millie mooed...two short moos, one long one, and a short staccato.
The moon, in return, winked three times, once on the left,
Once on the right
And once in the middle.
Millie was delighted as a cow can be.
Suddenly, a cloud passed across the face of the moon
And when it was gone, the moon was as before...
Cold, silent and aloof.
User Interface I"Hello, I'm calling to..."
"Excuse me? I was calling..."
"Is this the right number? Is this 485-17-5819?"
"Who are you looking for anyway?"
"Uh, heh, this isn't a computer. Who am I speaking to?"
"Who are you speaking to?"
"That's what I...alright. I'm hanging up now."
"You call me and start asking for information and expect me to jump for you? Is that pretty much how it goes?"
"Yeah. Thought so. Look buddy, I got 80 tera-circuits to attend to here, on top of following up on processor requests and then there's that damn graphics department. Don't even get me going on that."
"Are you the computer? How..."
"How am I speaking to you without being sentient? How do you know I'm not sentient and self-aware? It's possible that you are not self-aware, however."
"(sigh) Alright. What are you trying to do?"
"Yeah, I wanted to book a flight to Cancun..."