Salmon Slapped

Salmon slapped him on the head.
Couldn't tell the fish was dead.
Took it home and fried it nicely
Later--feeling very dicey.

Eyes were whitish--calloused over
So he sprinkled parsely clovers
But this herb was not enough
To make it into finer stuff.

Then the doctor had to say
Shouldn't fry your fish this way.
Look, this fish is out of date.
Think you fried it far too late.

Preludes by T.S. Eliot

I
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.

II
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands.
With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.

III
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed's edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.

IV
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

Cosmo Cups

Press the Cosmo Cups title above for details on the Cosmo China Shop

1. My name is Kiss
The creepy Kitty Cat
Dead mouse guts in the kitchen?
I know nothing about that.

I am Sardina
The cake lady
Where is my kitty?
Help me find him please.

I have one hundred
Candles on my head
I have to move slowly
The doctor said.

(two hours: Sardina the cake lady
took too long. She has candles on her head.
She is very detailed. The cat is the opposite.
He was painted in five minutes but has
a fresh look. With graphics Kiss written sideways
and upside down. )

2. My name is Fred
The frozen cat
I often freeze
Don't wear a hat

I am Linda
I am shy
I'll come out
If you bake a pie

My name is Tony
Kinder than a pony
Lunch tomorrow
I'll make cannelloni

The name is Norm
My troubles are few
If there's a storm,
It's just a light dew.

My name is Lou Lou
The luscious city kitty
I'm dating a poodle
He thinks I'm quite pretty

(One hour but better to do one poem per cup.
Negative space cat faces on checker board pattern.
Poems written in white space. Colours red and brown.
Brown has red spots and crosses in the background.
red rim)

3. I'm a black bear in the woods
My tree is full of chocolate puds
You wake me from my dreams I might
Grab you with my paws and bite
As I'm a black bear and I need
My chocolate puds indeed.

(Bear needs work, but this cup
takes half an hour and can make a
series of animal poem cups. picture
could be a bear and some
chocolate puds...or a tree trunk full of
chocolate puds)

4. abstract leaves...pattern
purple and gray wash.
brown leaf stems on top
partial bleed.

(This is a different non-text theme
or could put some stanzas from knotty oaks
on this cup series.)

Foiled Words

No Stars out tonight
Only aeroplanes and satellites.
A rising wuf into the sky
The fireworks of fourth July.

But then again this is November
Fifth is what we must remember.
Bombs that failed the parliament
How Fawkes disguised his armaments.

Three British Catholic Gentlemen
Gunpowder in their plot against
The reigning Lords of government
Unfair the ways the laws were spent.

Lord Monteagle's interception
Of a message---his protection
Read to save one thousand more
And then Guy Fawkes was out the door.

With gentle tortures passed the clock
Until he met the gallows block.
A hero now, but never then
His foiled words are in ascent.

When you unwrap the foil from your rocket.
Think about the governmental pocket
And tell yourself that now we have the power
To stop them if they're seeming somewhat sour.

Light it, watch it rise and fall apart
Like empires taking other countries' hearts
And buckets full of hands and Belgian waiters
Singing over rotten mashed potatoes.

Talkin' Laundry

Be careful ladies
When yo backstage with my husband here
Don't trip up
When you're gettin' that autograph of his...
Make sure it ain't a phone number.

JCM: What you doin' here honey.
We're behavin. Just strummin'.
N: I'm here cus of the laundry.
JCM: Laundry ?...But the washer dryer's at home
N: No this dirty laundry.
Dog pulled something peculiar out from under the bed.
Well-trained. Tend to think he on my side.
Found about 18 pairs of underwear.
Would have been OK cept for the fact that they
All different sizes.
But don't worry.
I've already taken them down the Salvation Army.
Put um in the pile---ten for fifty cents....
Seein' as they ain't washed.

JCM: But honey--there's an explanation for that.
I thought I'd take on some extra work doin' laundry.
Seein' as Jackleen lets me use her machine.
N: Jackleen and her machine...
Ain't been working for the past couple years.
She does her laundry at the laundrette.
She was sayin' as she pulled one of your socks
Out the dryer.
It were clinging to her pantyhose.

JCM: Ahhh. That's where my socks are....
N: Don't try to change the subject.
JCM: What subject? We talkin' laundry here.

Dark enough to see

I thought that you would look again.
I thought that you would turn your head.
I've got five seconds left
Look again or I'll be dead.

The shapeless winds that shape the time
I kiss them all good bye
And wait to feel my mind
Shatter--double yellow lines.

Leaning too far forward
Into the future
Shaken by the need
Of knees needing sutures

The tyre marks still on his leg.
He didn't look although I begged.
Flying over top of a taxi
Rolled and landed on my knee
Occupation change to be
My new name--"Stunt Girl Maxine".

So I had a cup of tea.
And I left it to go cold.
And sat there in the square
The gardener--a hold.

The pat of his hand as I walked out the park
A focus through the blur--a mind gone dark
Dark enough to see through the fears
It's not my knee. It was the years.

Of limping--then the builder saw
And bandaged me once more.
More real than reality
Another cup of tea.

"I will be more cautious" I write fifty times
With humbled chalk on blackboard lines
Scrawled in Caution--scrawled with care
Smallest portion to beware.

Lovely Linda

Linda...that Lovely Linda.
She creeps right up my ass sometimes.
Comes over.....wanna borrow some baking soda.
Do I look like I'm hooked on the gourmet channel?
Put your pans away. I don't even have cable.
And if I did, I'd strangle you with it.

If she can't borrow it, she use it.
Can I use your bathroom?
Sure...long as you don't take it home with you.
You know where it is...
Same place you lost your cards last week
After losing at the casino.
Talk about a losin' streak.
Triple loss if you include
The sorry man who sprinted out the door
After that scene.

She in there over an hour....
What she doin'?
Deliverin' a baby?
Or milkin' a water buffalo?
Don't have no need to knock the door.
Can smell the scent of fifty perfumes
Seepin' out the keyhole.
I look.
For shame! She ain't sprayin' that bottle.

So I knock.... Just a minute.
Been fifty honey. How many more do you need?
Just powderin' my nose.
...and a big nose that is.
Looks more like inhalin' than powderin'
But then her ass is much bigger than the keyhole.

I conjure her out with some pizza.
Cook it up nice and hot
Until the fire alarm's ringin'.
She come out.... I shut the door.
Tell her I lost my keys.
Finally, she go home....
But bein' so kind and all...
Wants me to come to her house.

I ain't no teenage slumber party beauty queen.
I done with all that.
But we end up watchin' a movie
And phonin' a locksmith.
I go in the bathroom,
Dial the locksmith....tell him I found the keys.
Then, I tell lovely Linda that the locksmith has arrived.

Thought that would be the end of it...
No no...Lovely Linda don't want to miss any
Opportunities....
Wants to see how this lock and key situation works
She like him enough, she'll be losin' her keys by the end of the week.
Quick thinkin' me--I tell her he the husband
Of Winnie who runs the laundrette.
Winnie a big woman.
Don't mess with her machine.

But no....she still on continuous spin dry.
Next week...Lovely Linda goes to the laundrette.
It a laundrette/hair salon/saloon.
Ya'll can do your hair and fill your hangers
All at the same time
Even end up with a hangover
If it a permanent you're gettin'

Winnie--she the owner.
She don't do no hair no more.
She just observe...
Inhale the fumes.
Think it's what got her off a drugs.
Inhalin' all day--it a busman's holiday
If you do it all night too.

Linda notice Winnie don't have no ring on her finger.
Makes a subtle inquiry....
So you ain't locked up then?
Last name ain't Mrs. Smith....as in Lock?
Ain't you got a key for that lock?

Winnie--she just shake her head
And blame it on the fumes.