me and rhonda on astronomy & humanitarianism
corner of Forest & Williams, Great Bend, Ks., October, 1985
standing outside the Chinese restaurant, having just eaten
dinner after seeing Godzilla ’85, arguing how gross shrimp
tails are or are not: i could not fathom how anyone could bear
to have one on a plate & retain a healthy appetite. she had
performed a puppet show with them for me. the shrimp
danced & sang, “if you lived in Ethiopia, you would just love
love love us!” i looked up to see Halley’s Comet once before
it left. the whole point of our date being for her to help me
see the comet once as it crossed paths with my tiny life. i had
no clue where to look, the sky being infinite & all. she said,
“it’s the little twinkling thing.” i noted everything up there
was twinkling its little heart out. she said, “by Jupiter.” i
asked, “where the hell is Jupiter? remember who can’t find
his way to Kansas City.” her usual benevolent frustrated sigh.
“above Steinert’s Furniture. the big brilliant dot is Jupiter,
below: the comet spinning on its axis. stare at it awhile. it has a
tail, a brief spinning on its axis. stare at it awhile. it has a
tail, a brief wisp of light. it’s traveling thousands and
thousands of miles a minute.” “wow. will it ever crash to
earth?” “who knows? if so i hope it lands on Ethiopia as im
ever so tired of that damn song.” “i thought Godzilla took
care of that.” “no, that was Japan.” “oh. well, let them eat
shrimp!”
HAVING A MINI-EPHIPHANY &
UNDERSTANDING YOKO’S ART
WHILE WRITING A POEM ABOUT
HOW POINTLESS IT IS
as margaret, brad and i strolled
the streets of Beverly Hills,
we began noticing mediocre
three- and four-line poems
written in one-inch yellow letters
on the windows of several
prestigious shops
i wondered what Hallmark reject was at large,
terrorizing Beverly Hills.
a poster informed us the poems
were an “exhibit” by Yoko Ono
it was obvious she used yellow, a bland
hardly noticeable color,
so the poetry would not be obtrusive,
divert attention from the merchandise
then i was startled to realize
we were reading poetry
in pretentious Beverly Hills store windows.
ok.
now i get it.
bless her freaky little heart.
THE HATHAWAY PROPHECY
i read The Celestine Prophecy –
not because it isn’t
a bunch of trendy new age hooey
not because it couldn’t be garnered
from common sense
by anyone with an open heart
and two brain cells to rub together
but because i was supremely bored
in my trailer house
on the edge of no where
& it was a gift
from a beloved friend
& respected poet
my habit of reading back to front
paid off as i was able to make
a startling prophecy of my own:
Mr. Redfield
wants 23 more dollars from whoever
is dying to know
what the 10th Insight is.
from michael's
new book
cosmic children
