John Updike in Bermudas

Spinster 100 x 80 x 2 cm - mixed media on linen canvas

 

 

 

THE 4th

 

It’s the 4^th, as it always is

this time of year, even the police

peaceful today handing out ice-cream to

graceful multi-hued children who have never

known public strangulation; for whom pepper spray

is something you squirt on your salad.

 

All trees are impressive here, really

big, excellent timber. There are no snipers in the branches.

And yet what if the wind fell through their leaves

then went ripping down the sidewalk  

blowing roughly one-third of Kansas

and a hefty chunk of Missouri off the map,

threatening Arkansas and impressive swaths

of Oklahoma with utter devastation? What would we do then?

 

I don’t know about you, but I would pour

another drink; let someone else deal with it. I gave

at the home office ha-ha. There’s plenty on my plate e.g.

“Next Door Liz” has just flashed me. Or am I hallucinating? Nope,

she gives an encore: up with the sun dress—no panties—

then down again. Another perilous day in the bush, my dear Livingston.  

Yo, Liz. Wassup? Such exuberance reminds me

of the 60’s. Depravity in the burbs redux; John

Updike in Bermuda shorts. True, Stockholm refused

to give him the Big One, but he did have fabulous legs.

 

 

 

Renegade

 

Abtrünnig - Renegade 100 x 70 cm - mixed media on craft paper

AFTER THE RAIN

A woman approaches you

through the rain.

Dragging shaky fingers 

down her wet hair.

Doesn’t seem to know umbrellas exist.

Possessed

looking

clear through your eyes

all the way to the back of your skull:

you ask yourself what she sees

up there if not lust and wonderment?

Very predictable. Still, the

critics love it, and the people clap.

There’s a scene in “The Year of Living Dangerously”

when Sigourney Weaver moves zombie

like through the Jakarta monsoon

toward an unsuspecting Mel Gibson.

She seems stoned on a self-concocted

chemical substance, i.e., transcendent.

And you know

they will crash through a road block, escape to the highlands,

that the rebels will end up

crushed by the dictator’s army.

And you know

none of this will matter

as much as that woman

possessed

who

approached

you

through

the

rain.