Prog 2026

 

He had to reach 59
Before he got into prog
He wasn't sure why this was
He was a boy in its 1970s heyday
Back then it sounded like music
From a forest wired with electricity
But a forest from which
He remained outside
The years staggered on
Like a flock of birds
Gathering rising & landing
His life perhaps laden
With more tragedies
Than the average life
Injuries deaths hospitals
But he couldn't really say
Yes Genesis Rush
Were these names commands
Recollections portraits dreams
Were they elk leaving the night forest
Or had he entered the forest
Melodies circled him as vines
Harmonies rained down on him
As dropping berries as spinning leaves
Even the lyrics were no longer dross
Broken into shards they shimmered
Like flakes of mica or moonlight
"Yesterday a morning came
A smile upon your face
Caesar's Palace morning glory
Silly human race."

Burbank 73

 

he meant to move to Burbank California
he knew they taped Johnny Carson there
but he got it backwards
and moved to Burbank Illinois
where he ran out of money
living in a roadside motel
and started lifting pallets
in a loading bay
and the sun went down
like a wavering coin in water
every day at 5 PM
and his coworker was a woman
from Mexico with a deep voice
like an Época de Oro movie star
and one day they decided
to go west
maybe Burbank, CA
maybe Buenavista, MIC

Scenes from TV

 

the ugly car traverses a road
on the side of a canyon
seen at first in the distance
then up close
after the camera lens dials in
we see boulders
and rusty dust
maybe real maybe artificial
the music an electric bass
maracas electric piano
drum set a wah-wah guitar
then a cut to a kitchen interior
garish yellow-orange wallpaper
with little wheelbarrows
and fences on it
a silver toaster
and a clear vinyl
table cover
then back to the car
on the canyon road
with the music
and this goes on
into eternity
it seems

WHAT DO YOU WANNA BE WHEN YOU GROW UP

I'm 12 years old
I'm drinking Hawaiian Punch
On the front steps of my house
With my best friend
He says what do you wanna be
When you grow up
The sun has gone behind
White clouds
No breeze
Silence except for a car
In the distance
A tree maybe
A stream
Snow melt
A record needle in a groove
The memory of a dance night
A clanging high hat
A racing blue jay
A pomegranate waiting to be juiced
A repeated phrase not understood
A parrot in the jungle
Who remembers words forgotten
By the humans who spoke them
Really? he says
Yeah, I guess

Movies Trees Streams

 

Great American indie film
Where the protagonists
Walk through a forest
In Cascadia
The Porcupine Mountains
The Great Dismal Swamp
The Black Hills
Pigsah
Crooked River
Hells Canyon
Kootenai Forest
Land Between the Lakes
And we see them stepping with their heavy packs
Dipping their cups into a stream to drink
Arriving at rocks that look out
Over vast landscapes of mountains hills
And their conversation is a few words
exchanged while walking in a line
15 feet between them
The trees understanding the speech
As much as the hikers
And something is not quite right
Each time they bed down for the night
Setting up their tents making a fire
Looking up at the stars
There is more conversation
And we learn of fissures
In their relationships
And we sense that when
They reach the end
Of the trail
Their friendships
May also end

A Black Deep Purple T-shirt

 

i don't know what deep purple is
i can kind of picture it
but i know it's not deep enough
or dark enough or old enough
i know the stalking 4-note riff
then i'm stuck again
a kid played that stomp of notes
on string bass
in the 7th grade band room
then we all did it
the phrase seemed complete
and not complete
i can see the smoke on the water
but where is it coming from
not from the water
but from somewhere beyond

An Unnamed Road in Tuscany

a butterfly breeze-tumbles
beneath a curved branch
an ochre-colored fortress
of circling buildings
sits on a flat-topped mountain
the birds sound like frogs
the insects sound like birds
the slender leaves and the fruit
of the olive trees give them a look
of decoration
everybody's waiting for rain