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Tag Archives: Gary Bowers

strong acid has no appetite/but eats voraciously/and black holes eat surrounding light/and time eats you and me.

when dining in a restaurant/let’s bless the beasts that feed us/and be polite and nonchalant/and tip the folks who need us.

we fill our baskets to make feast/in province state and county/and North and south and west and east/provide us with our bounty.

the bottom-feeders play the part/without which toppers languish/let’s tend our filth and show some heart/by quelling sea life anguish.

dig in with gusto yet when done/reserve, recycle, be/as life-supporting as the Sun/and live r e s p o n s i b l y.

The Asymmetrical Heart

We have romanticized the heart/Reduced it to a simple shape/Made myth of its emotive core/Denied our kinship with the ape

Its septa, chambers, valves and pipes/Tell of a greater life-romance/Of oxygen exchange, the more/Essential to Survival’s dance

In comes corpuscular starvation/Sent to the lungs; enriched; engorged; To function make and flush restore/And thus is our Existence forged

The Heart at heart is like a bellows/A squeezebox never on the shelf/So have respect, ye Ladies, Fellows:/It yields not love but Life Itself.

mix up the letters of JOE BIDEN

and you get I NEED JOB.

mix up PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP

and there’s a DESPOT in there/and a PIED STRUMPET/and a RESIDENT DOTARD

and a lot of other fun insulting anagrams

for the man who likes to say things/to get elected/and then unsay them/because he only said them to get elected.

you can also be sure/that the CANDOR or a venerated news ANCHOR will evoke his RANCOR AND/OR Wrath.

long ago a military man said these exact words: “We had to destroy the village in order to save it.”

Somewhere in at least two places evil men are acting as if

they have to destroy this country

in order to destroy it.

rise and shine kid morning’s here/coffee up with cream and splenda/grub up dress up disappear/meet that improvised agenda

break at seven lunch is noonish/crunch those numbers write that plan/show up for the meeting loonish/out by seven if you can

home at last kiss wife pet doggie/flop exhausted watch the game/weather forecast comes up soggy/every day more of the same

the murky focus is for the squeamish

who might squeam

if they saw how like crawling centipedes

these new stitches slash scars appear

.

this makes six surgical scars and a patch of road rash

two on my forehead three on right hand/wrist and one on my left knee

and the road rash on my left forearm

.

hey wait i forgot my appendix scar

that makes lucky seven

.

we are all scarred

and not all scars heal well

and some not at all

but we are here

and here there are avenues of comfort

.

the hockey player gordie howe had dozens of scars

they were an occupational hazard

and badges of honor

.

the road rash has been healing gradually over the last seventeen years

it has gone in relative size and shape from australia to japan

.

so i hope to get the scar to hawaii by my hundredth birthday

.

and my centipedes will have joined my lifeline and loveline seamlessly

when i shake my Maker’s nonhand

bugmuscle propels the skittering critter/tripodally some times, in flight others. a horse’s gallop is inelegant/in comparison; the coordination of six legs/whilst maintaining balance and speed/keeps the flexor muscles of three femurs contracting/and the other three relaxed/at any given moment. a scientist named Hill/developed a model that niftily tells us what is going on/with all muscle, exoskeletally encapsulated/or not. it makes for good, substantive reading, but/i left it unfinished, being unready/with my bunch of mammal muscle/to be over the Hill/just yet.

bugs cannot smile. rejoice, for we can and do!

He ordered a pitcher of beer/And poured it too fast. With a sneer/His girlfriend said/”You give horrible head–/Take it slow to succeed.  Am I clear?”

A thirsty young lass name of Gail/Took a long steady pull at her ale/Then with foamy mustache/She proceeded to slash/Through guitar riffs that made the Gods wail.

A balding young cowboy named Getty/Spread some Edge shaving gel on his head.  He/Then sculpted the foam/on his sparsely-tressed dome/And declared, “Now I look like a yeti!”

From the sea-foam came lovely, nude Venus/And Surfer Dude said, “Human genus/Persists. Don’t reject us/Poor Homo Erectus/If Reflex takes hold of our ..uhh…” then he fainted.

noeyes

“…as you stare into the vacuum/of his eyes…” Bob Dylan, “Like a Rolling Stone”

he is noeyed/nevertheless he is eyeing us all

judging

looking out at you and seeing foibles

waiting for another slip

and that is why he is there on my home screen

amongst stuff i often use

i made him to watch me/keep me mindful/let me know twin abysses abide/and every moment counts

i stare him down to prepare for a challenge

he wants to intimidate but hey

i can see right through him/so can you

on the pier you smell fish and saltwater/or you might be inside a shack to buy a hat/and you hear seagulls and tenor-clanging bells/and you might see a huge grey battleship at the edge of vision

on the pier you lean on the rail/and resonate with incoming crash of surf/and you are pulled by a sea that sings to your dna/of home

on the pier an excited boy catches his dinner

while a wandering-eyed husband catches hell

you walk from the pier to the boardwalk/rent a bike and build a breeze for your face

you glide and look backward and see that the pier you were on is shrinking/and you turn around to make it grow again

turn in the bike pay and walk to where you had been and are welcomed by a calm pelican who gives you a tiny nod

on the pier

a honeybee thwarted

must go to plan b

b cautious when straying

from combs in the tree

b mindful b wary

b nectar-aware

b able to map-dance

and lead sisters there

.

the dance of survival

in honeycombed tree

will lead to arrival

at bloomful point bee.