Ray Freed

Ray Freed's poems have appeared in many journals, his book is Much

Cry Little Wool from Street Press (1990), and the chapbook Mongoose Rag

from Black Hole Press (1994). He can be reached indigo@aloha.net

NOIKS

for Nat Athens

I hear the Millennium on us

hard as a junkie whore on a bone or

skin on a lizard as truth on succotash or

the lay on the land rover boy keep your

hands outta Mr Rockyfeller's pockets who

owns jails and other things aren't as bad

as they used to be if you're dead I alla time

been axe myself what's it all about Armageddon

top of the car and sing prays

of the public library

I see in birthing Spring bombers bloom

red the mourning papers the walls

with body parts his hair on the left right

left right children hide behind mothers

skirt the issue of why streets aren't as wide

as buildings are tall boys pushing

toward the stars

I see the corn high as an elephant's

I know like winter the landlord

takes yes for an answer to your

don't question the solidity of objects

dense to senses though mind shows

matter empty mostly she lies awake

through night the child nesting

in her arm yourself

I hear the noise of leaves changing

colors erupt as feathers on the dawn

mountain nine ate the neighbor's

dog which would not cease barking

kong come along sing a song

of napalm waiting a bedtime

story a tuck me in to this best of all

probable whirls the dancer's skirt

the clicking castanet into

the night dark sea

I see in childproof night

the wolves black jaw cunning

as owl eye shines through forests

of perfidy lights in Sundays at home

with the wife and kid you not

no payments till next year a sliding

interest scales like diamonds litter

the floor as we prune fish if they know

aren't telling

I hear the fat lady singing

in clouds of unknowing rowing a barque

or bite the hand that greeds us please

remit to the address on the back of

the front advancing toward the city

with heavy weaponry and wheeled

carriages of the Prince's retinue

or old it all repeats sages say or

said they're dead and so will we

I hear the lonesome wail of erectus

laying down patterns whee

live by overlaid with consciousnests

of stinging insects of contrary belief

of rose's thorn guarded sweetness in the

always Springtime sprigtime how we Miss

America now 84 has come along children

your pretty uniforms you'll grow into

the dark of night no clear light comes

I see winter exit this way please

Captain spare us the horror of

your troops consuming our daughters

and suns spread across the galaxy

numerous as sands on a beach as

points of matter in the mostly empty

space between our ears hear the winds

wind down the mountain

I hear Jarry pataprophesying

all over town and in newsprinted

for the Finnish border finish lined

his casket with banknotes to bribe

a way into heaven's on the other

side of the needle's I wonder

if the soldier hears the bullet or

takes the subway to work

things out and save this marriage

of metal and flesh

I see the Delphic coracle

sailing through Styx on 42nd Street

warning of Armageddon the roof

and crow like a fucking rooster

at dawn over the fucking Mekong Delta

winged fighter swoops strafing

a line of schooltykes field tripping

like there's no tomorrow's just

another name for nothing left but shoes

I hear the spiny hoptoad caroling

through marshes of unborn child

of my loins learns or he don't know an ass

from an elbowed banner above city's

highscraper song of verge on edge

of hammered steel lever fulcrumbs

of the King's banquet tossed to

poor bastards to gum after work

when their arms too tired to cry

I hear the song of Jose can you see

by the Mall's earthly light climbs

the dawn mountainside by side the

rich ride the horse of the poor whose

poverty will be defeated in straight sets

the record straight for the stars our

destiny needs knees hitting the floor

in forgive us Father we know

I hear Amerigo slinging

showerwise in jack boots hola

young lavas wherever art thou

Margareet grieving over goldengloves

of Tyson belfryed chickparts ding dong o

that my Johnny were beside mi fa so la ti

doughboys' boots on Beijing cobblestoned

peyote vision walls shimmer undulater

than we think

I hear Amalgamated is up a 4th

down a 5th floor walkup a ladder

to the promised land where

the gimmes got what the takers took

when the lights flicked off on the

fringe of Firth near high tide Fundy

mentally sound as sure as God makes

little green hopefuls smiling as walls

fall into Sunday turkey and giblet graves

I know I could not love you more all rivers brim

your eyes command a chemical imperative

truely she has my heart in hold on now

distance sucks in matter's mostly empty

space where I touch your skin to know

matter is mostly space matters not I

shall but love you better after breakfast

I see Gay Enola glide

through Pacific morning sunshine

your brogans mister only a buck

toothed drill sergeant's rigmarole

me over in the clever aspirations of

small minded executive compromise

de best ob de best massa buy me

an de fambly too often hang

upside down committing sideways

I see lock stock and barrel over

the house of lusher days men spoke with

les animaux than ever I envy your ability

to regenerate limbs droop due to the volcano's

outage after age ever upward to better warring

and pitifully thin bodies of starving babies seen

on the telly like it is

I hear Barnum laffing

all the weigh to the bunker

gross national produce weapons

maker to the whirl of deep instinct playing

out mama it's only life coming from high atop

spinning galaxies of short order ham n x

breakfast of champignons pour les simple

tons of fractured syntaxable artillery

I see the briny trees of the briny sea

saw Margery dawdle before five

six seven eleven heaven's promise

sinks into dark the day of death is

like any other than that Armageddon

top of the bank and weep for

the wounded dollar

I hear Buddha chortling

koans in blossom death of China

town rockball soup jossticks

or stones brake Mr Jones d'ya know

what's going on the dark side of the

moon over my amigo's quetzal coat all

feathered friends of the defendant

I hear carburetors choking

asphalt clouds along lung driven road

to man delay of sweet 1.2 billion China

mouth holes riding ICBM to Boston tea

party on dude surf's up smoke this hang

loose or lose it words don't hurt men

hurtle through days attached

to a favorite flower

I hear geared sprockets cry oil oil

across grain waving meadows eyes shine

as bullets whistle buy me more more

whee just want to be left alone gunman

sprays the playgrounding five six

pick up stix stones break bones

names can't hurt Mimi the Mall Queen

of get and spend evening wondering into night

I see the daughters of men and they are fare

or not that's life in the old days shading

dong into today is just an uttered name

for nearer my death to thee bastard pulls

the rug out from underground flowers push

in answer to the eyes have it

I hear the cats of Nagasaki crackling

dogs exploding dong postwar prosperity

anyone this gene produces wedding dong

cakes etched on dank cave walls before

the Fall leaves skitter to the ground

like the Emperor Cheng Shi's

final luminous decree

I hear what there is is

now not then or then village girls are

wonders to village boys will be boys

then men then dust covers unread books

on a shelf in the cave an altar of bones will

outlast thoughts by far away over the hills

a tinkling of bells

I see water counterclock

wizened hags cast spelling bees dance

with purpose not as men and donkeys

from joy to the whorl downcircling of this

galaxy's obit around empty space mostly

matter is in the final analysis pass the mashed

and feed your brothers are we all

Armageddon top of the moon

falls always toward Earth bitterly

weeping it's all right to be old if one

hasn't been young men bombed Dresden

burning 700 unpublished crystalline

Vivaldi concertos forever gone

135,000 men women children gone

forever is the mind imagining

a future generations

I hear them singing

Ray Freed