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-- word biscuit --
-- exercise edition --
05-23-99 -- ray heinrich
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my dog told me to.
-ray
< your fine brown hair >
your hat
oh that hat of yours
i can see that hat
and your hand
taking it off
and all your fine brown hair falling through our story
pinned
and clasped
combed
and braided
your fine brown hair
wetted
and lathered
shampooed
and rinsed
falls through our story
in showers
and baths
in oceans
and seas
your fine brown hair
in the summer winds
of a back porch
then fall
and winter
falls through our story
hiking a west slope
with the sun through it
your fine brown hair
at night
as it falls on my chest
falls through our story
- - -
< a difference of oceans >
from the east a sun
and from the west
we can only hope
but meanwhile
i am breathing you
in and out
a synchronization
an amplitude
a frequency
a timbre
so deep in the middle of this
we end up
singing
- - -
< last night >
the beach
missing a moon
your foot
breaking a shell
the ocean
stretching out
- - -
< at the beach >
over the fire
you roasted a marshmallow
i can't stop remembering it
in your mouth
- - -
< the bones of april >
the bones of april
glow white in the moon
pulling the tides apart
as i
your legs
cast on a beach
the remnants of old invasions
picked by the crows
craving this food
as we all must
and the water
and the kiss
and everything is soon forgotten
(save the kiss)
- - -
< elements >
not earth or air or water or fire
or the red-orange ribbons
running up the sky
just green somewhere
and the touch of your hand
years ago
filled with promises
- - -
< the secret to night hiking >
a big, easy loop down the west slope
watching the sun set
and the stars begin
the secret to night hiking
is taking a hungry dog
- - -
P.S. While any dog who knows
the trail will do, a hungry one
will not stop at as many of the
places the 137 other dogs who
walked this trail in the past
month stopped though, of course,
dead animals will present more
of a problem.
< free will >
about five miles
down the road
they changed their minds
came back
burned the village
took the men
down to the river
and shot them
- - -
< small world >
on the tv
the small holocaust continues
the serbs
on the mound at kosovo
celebrating
their crop of ashes
(as nato
grows more)
will the kosovars be a football team someday?
(and like our redskins
worth $800 million?)
- - -
< hello >
hello
my name is tommy
i was disposing of my
packing material
when you arrived
but don't worry
it's environmentally friendly
so
here i am in your choice of coverings
dusty rose
an excellent selection
now
in order to serve you better
there are a few questions
i would like to ask you
at your convenience
of course
- - -
< what i like about writing >
it's late
and i've pretty much given up on you
so i pick up my pen
and that smile of yours
breaks through the door
your hands
busy with those buttons down your dress
now that's
what i like about writing
- - -
and what i don't:
< quiet >
always picking at these words on my lips
crowding
tripping
never
quiet
- - -
< miss winter >
the smell of your skin with the lights off
the heater coils
make us all red
- - -
< wild onions >
while mowing the grass
the wild onions
usually stink a bit
but really
they aren't so bad
i love onions
and you
meanwhile
are working your hands up my leg
- - -
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- 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
and now, another month later, he's upstairs barking cause
he wants me to come up and walk him which i'll have to do
but i'll be back in a minute (only Ilane reads this far,
hi Ilane).
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