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-- word biscuit --
-- burning dinner edition --
04-13-99 -- ray heinrich
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all of us, oh my god, still out there, eating it.
-ray
< you and the rain >
you're quiet
and that usually means rain
so
of course
it rains
and i worry
as i dream of you
all
cut up by the rain
great splashes of you
white
gray
blue
- - -
< bleeding >
i know you know where i want to be
(bleeding at the bottom of your pink sea)
- - -
< an audience with the dust queen >
how good the tea was
in her third month of remission
and the cucumber sandwiches
how impossibly thin
"that was the cutest dog that won at Westminster"
she said
"yes"
i said
"oh yes!"
- - -
< regrettably, it is sometimes the business
of yellow flowers to burn in summer >
sometimes this is what it means to be a yellow flower
born late
of a cool, wet spring
only to be found by summer
sometimes
to be a yellow flower
means
to burn in summer
desperately
dreaming of spring
when burning in summer
most yellow flowers
desperately
dream of spring
while others
driven mad
will claim to be the sun
---
< dinner species >
carrots
cows
mice
potatoes
(and you, the bacteria whisper)
- - -
< swimming >
i take cover as you smile
trying
not to slip too fast
between those teeth of yours
and yet
i'd love to end up
swimming in your water
- - -
< menu >
wild dog soup
sweet clam skin
fresh stone juice
beautiful bug stew
romantic beer taco
deep rich pork loaf
plump honey chicken tongue
robust ripe roast rhinoceros
succulent dessert cat
- - -
< kathy, leaving >
leaving that us of ours
lying
laid between us
in layers of intentions
our lips
large and lazy
licking
leaving the last damn L
of love
- - -
< the city and the stars >
she was born somewhere
in the city
buildings upon buildings
red brick
that sort of thing
hardly the place for owls
but always
for a mouse
and then
one evening
she
fresh from the city
and a breakfast of large corncakes
that morning
butter
and syrup from an un-marked gallon can
the dishes
set aside
she
had come to lick them
and the owl
had come to eat her
and we heard the owl
and said something like
"this sure isn't the city"
its buildings
unmissed
her children
filled with the dream of milk
- - -
< the sugar in this water >
who are you anyway?
i was just trying to mail this letter
and naturally
mistook you for a post office
please
stamp me
with whatever you have
please
i was dreaming again
they made us strip
showed us to everyone
in our wrinkles
and our fat
- - -
< after the accident >
i started with a monkey
and he worked fine for a few months
even though i could not dictate to him
(for fear of what had happened the first time)
any sexually explicit material
but then he started editing my writing
this wasn't so bad
(he was actually quite good)
but eventually he started writing his own stuff
and refused to type mine at all
next
i turned to my a dog
but she took forever to train
and was extremely slow
so i obtained a ferret
hoping to speed things up
and yes
he was fast
but (unlike my dog)
it was impossible to train him to fetch my beer
then one night the dog ate him
saving me from having to find a good home for him
for beer
it turns out
will get you through times of slow poetry
better than poetry
will get you through times of no beer
- - -
< "it's not the winter it's just this knee" >
he said
"but with the Advil
it's good for a few miles
and Advil's easy to steal
they're busy
watching the other stuff
always buy something though
that's the trick
always buy something"
- - -
< it's easter again >
i keep them in the garage
the rest of the year
but here they are
bones
and no
they don't look anything like bones
they've been fashioned
by so many hands
(fearful of this place we find ourselves)
still
within them
there's a spark
- - -
< rachel, definitely >
in Dallas
the symphony dances
as her legs descend
oh
that delirious D
fixed at the first
of destiny
- - -
< america at its best >
performing humanitarian acts
with cruise missiles
- - -
< remember >
remember to tell anybody who'll listen
that you know what they mean
those nights
dangling
small bits blown like the rain
waiting
it won't be long
remember to tell anyone who'll listen
that you know what they think
when they should be sleeping
their faces
moved at a touch
remember to tell them through the window
you know how they feel
watching you
all day
remember to tell them you know
that they lie to you
remember to tell them
that when they finally come to love you
they'll do it anyway
- - -
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__contents_concluded________________________________________
- legal notes - subscribe info - back issues - bio - copyright -
legal notes:
all registered subscribers to 'word biscuit' have my
sympathy as well as my permission to publish any
individual poem or poems contained within it
(or the whole dang thing if you get to feeling like it)
so long as you obtain no commercial or barter
considerations in exchange for such copies, it's not
part of any pro-republican campaign literature, and
you do it within two years of its original publication
date. anything else requires my permission which might
be obtained (depending on the mood i'm in) by writing to
me at: ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and yes, i love it every
time someone is amused enough to make copies and send
them to friends, pass them out on street corners, read
them in coffeehouses, post them in laundromats, or wrap
them in a good, honest fish.
subscription info:
if you're not a registered subscriber and would like to
receive 'word biscuit' irregularly (of course it's free),
just send an email saying something like yes to:
ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and don't forget gift subscriptions
for your friends, relatives, and casual acquaintances.
back issues can be found at:
http://wordbiscuit.com/
stock bio:
ray heinrich is an ex-texas technofreak and hippie-socialist
wannabe who lives on the outskirts of washington d.c.
he writes poems for thrills and attention. over the years
his work has appeared in many small, insignificant publications
both in and out of cyberspace. in real life he repairs
computers, has always been married, loves dogs, and owns
a BLUE fish.
copyright notice:
all this is copyright 1999 by ray heinrich and the free
state of dogs. comments are VERY welcome (send to:
ray@wordbiscuit.com ), ALWAYS read and LOVED as proof
that someone out there acknowledges my existence, but
not always responded to which is a greedy, selfish act
on my part which i seem to keep committing but at least
i'm not wearing any pants and the shirt i used to say i
was wearing had a quote on it from noam chomsky and some
chew marks left on it by a small, obstinate poodle who
was curled up, sleeping, resting his head on my feet a
few minutes ago but is now upstairs barking at a squirrel
and now he's back and now, a month later, he's back again.
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