Whenever he planned things

some Thing turned them awry

shivved them in the back

artfully  in the kidney

left them on their knees

in an alley they didnt know

and barely   above the pain

wondering

how they ended up there

and there

and there and there

                                                                                                              waylaid

cracked on the back of the skull

suckerpunched

coldcocked

ransacked  

                          and left for the buzzards

with such unenviable luck   he stopped planning

he stopped revealing to the Universe his intentions

She was being a bitch

he would have thought long  long ago

it should have occurred to him

to keep his big mouth shut

and walked away

Fuck!

Ran away!

but he hadnt

evidently he had a longgg learning curve

  

attended the School of Harder Knocks

black eyes  bruises    scars

though he saw no shame in them

he uttered they were signs of character  

of dogged perseverance

not cheap tattoos just pricked under the skin

                                                                           No  his thick hide wouldnt allow them

anymore than his thick skull

And the NOT planning began to pay off

She bit on his head fakes

bought his stuttersteps    and clutched empty air when he cutback

if need be  his jab his straightarm was loaded up and cocked

he was doing the rockin now

comin out of nowhere

goin nowhere

except for where

and where

and where and where

                                        he meant

silently

he was liberated

2357,  Twosday,  25  11. 14

Coopers Leatherstocking Saga had leaned against the oak baseboard

beside a sperm whale vertebra and three bowhead ribs

a slender bony disc had wanted  begged to mark the pages when he stopped reading

but he apologised

and asked its understanding

                                                 it was too large   and would mutilate the books spine

it looked around at the tarnished ivorycoloured bones

but held its tongue

he did  afterall  fondle and hold him  laid him in his lap when he read under the sunlight

coming through the Venetian blinds at his back and sipped spirits from a lone crystal 

tumbler salvaged from a cheap secondhand store

                                                                                    assuming the discs forgiveness

he let an appropriate time pass  and then slipped a business card from his psychologist

between its pages to hold his place

the appointment date on the card was four years old    the card was yellowing

she purchased a cheap card stock

but what would she know

she was a psychologist not a psychiatrist

which wasnt to say a psychiatrist would know any better

they could just better afford it

he couldnt afford a psychiatrist even if he wanted one

bones listened better

the room bore an inkling of being an ossuary

a bit of a seminary

it smelled sacred

though that may have been tinctured by his evening habit of burning candles incenses and

bright pipe tobacco

                                or the scores and scores of old volumes scattered and stacked 

hiding the wood floor the coloured woven rugs and table tops

she called it a museum

she was traveling

he was waiting

without waiting she said

she knew him better than he cared to admit

so he didnt

when she telephoned she would ask about his books and the bones

she asked about the disc

before she left on this trip

she sat on his lap under the window and kissed him goodbye

and rising

                  he patted his thighs and asked her how he was going to keep his lap warm

in her absence

she leaned over him

her hands on the upholstered chair arms

and kissed him deeply

then she picked up the whale disc off the floor  gently kissed it  and laid it in his lap

--   Until I return this is my space saver

--   Consider your space saved

he didnt tell her that he also laid it on her pillow beside his in bed when he slept 

she hadnt seen the shy lipstick imprint she left on it

or maybe she had

2308,  Twosday,  25  11. 14

yes

the sun had set

the trees and Morros

the buildings hills and rooflines were silhouettes

                                                                               the New Moon  a brilliant silver cuticle

arched over the charcoal disc of the remaining moon a shaggy palm shines pale ochre

and green against encroaching night

lit from within

Age possesses its own light

  

and this palm had sprouted and been there before the Chinese camped to work at the

White Mans railroad and commerce 

                                                            it was there when Indians passed to trade their

fish seashells and pottery with other tribes and with the religious Spanish and Mexicans

inside its hoary head  barely ever raked or moved by wind

those things it witnessed  and remembers   and perhaps wants to say

is mute

its thatched corrugated trunk is laced by head lights  dappled by street lamps

                                                                 

no one approaches it

 

it hasnt   and cant find listeners

the listeners died long ago

the palm abides Time

it shouldnt be long before a frond falls    attempts murder     and its cut down

as murderers should be

and Memory is

1403,  Twosday,  25  11. 14