Put the Pictures of Your Saints on the Wall

 

Put the pictures of your saints on the wall

You're going to need them

You're going to need the black and white photo

Of Thelonious Monk in wrap-around sunglasses

Perched over the piano ready to construct

Angular cities of notes

You're going to need the picture of Keith Jarrett

Fronting his European quartet

At a club in Sweden in 1974

Conjuring abstract forms in gospel piano clusters

Put the pictures of your saints on the wall

You're going to need them

As the stalking metallic hyenas

Who want to snatch the beating heart from your chest

Approach the gates of the city

You're going to need the postcard picture

Of Andre Breton sat down at the table

Of another cafe with another cigarette

Taking a break between writing

And seeing the friends with whom

He was seeking to expand the domain of the heart

Riding a skiff through underground Paris canals

Emerging out the side of the Atlantic bluffs

Into a sea of stars

SONG OF THE MAGA

We'll Finally Be Happy
when trans folks have vanished
when queer folks : in closets
when companies : whites only
when women : no vote

We'll Finally Be Happy
when no books but the Bible
when Pope Francis : excommunicatus
when empathy is over
when only we can see doctors

We'll Finally Be Happy
when nature says 'uncle'
when the seas are all molten
when no limits to workweek
when the children : in mines

We'll Finally Be Happy
when Jews live in fear
when Muslims know our hate
when Black people know shame
when we all Nazi salute

We'll Finally Be Happy
when all planets are conquered
when some of us : immortal
when art is reigned in
when their dreams are our dreams

We'll Finally Be Happy
when pollution : no limits
when animals: no rights
when refugees : refused
when the disabled : shut out

When we have all of this
we will finally be happy
when we have all of this
we will finally be happy

for one moment
for one breath

until we need more

- dh 2/25

A MERITOCRACY

Of the ruthless
Of the heart castle-walled
Of the soul space-jettisoned
Of the dull dreams
Of the flat staircase
Of the surface oracle
Of the malconnected
Of the leaving-the-human-arriving-at-zero
Of the doesn't-understand-the-divine-in-the-animal
Of the seeking-the-wrong-god
Of the damned

THINGS THEY WILL NEVER KNOW

 

70,000 years ago
weather events large animals
accidents bad luck
had us down to around 5000
croucheddown in caves
under cliff faces
burrowed into warm sand
we emerged again somehow
some dispersed
caught by the wind
into new lands
and watched the seeds
how they fell
into earth then sprouted
into something strange
bloomed into something magnificent
we told the harvest stories
don't try to be like a god
don't fly too close
to the sun with wax wings
didn't matter
we enslaved people
caged animals
attacked forests
when nothing else was
left to take
it was next
our shining ideas
symphonies written
in hangover states
syncopated calabash rhythms
tapestries necklaces rings
the shape and heft
of a canoe a rowboat
songs sung going to battle
songs sung returning from battle
chinese watercolors
of mountain lands
brief eggshell poems
written about those paintings
your mistakes
your embarrassing photos
your dream journals
at least if they went up into
harvested to sell
back to you
they almost got it all
but i am thinking things now
imagining things now
longing for things now
i will not tell you
and they will never know

LIKE LIVING

 

Like living in a house with an insane and raging father who hates you and himself and he hates all of creation and his wound was sustained when he was young and it never healed and he never dipped his cut finger into the stream that it might flow cool water over the capillaries and cleanse him and he didn't work washing dishes in the galley that he might learn humility and his wound festered and overtook him and he careens throughout the house projecting his weight his girth all of his sloshing bile and his wound never healed and he never dipped his finger into the cool stream to cool the pain and he stumbled out of the lip of a volcano that was belching a long line of bilious hateful fathers and he lava-flowed across everything and made this house of cooled magma in which we live. break it apart.

r

WORSTIES

"EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE MY FRIEND!!!"
-- DJT on "Truth" Social, 12/19/24

Well not everybody

I want to be the fiend in your nightmare
I want to be the fracture in your bone
I want to be the dander in your eye
I want to be the rat in your home

I want to be the spider on your eyelid
I want to be the hole in your shoe
I want to be the worm in your intestine
I want to be the black in your blue

I want to be the grease on your dance floor
I want to be the glitch in your song stream
I want to be the rock in your cupcake
I want to be the scream in your dream

I want to be the ice on your sidewalk
I want to be the stain on your mind
I want to be the rain on your golf course
I want to be the blight on your vine

- dh
inauguration day 2025

SOME BANDS I HAVE BEEN

 

Sno Cone
became
Ozone
Head Cleaner
became
Merkin
Gasoline
became
Sun Zoom Spark
(thank you Don Van Vliet)
Israel's Mysterious Beard
became
The Pearl Buttons
Frisco & Jeff
just were
on the rim
of a canyon
echoing harmony
Boring Films Discorporated
was a phantom
didn't exist
or when it did
the songs at each show
were unwritten
but noted on a set list
and the seal named
Universe
swimming in the Casco Bay
heard the music

(photo: art by Jay Moores)