ron androla

lou tullio is a small, translucent ghost
floating over gravel by train-tracks.
he looks like fdr in a wheelchair
boxed in a misty-like hologram,
...

i'm typing this poem with cold fingers.
the past gas & electric bills are monsters
eating our food, quick as that,
lower the thermostat, don't turn on
...

buddy
ebsen
jed
& the like of
...

begin to count the moments from waking until
yr head blends within a black pillow, thousands
of scenes, as if one day is a splattered galaxy.
...

charlie parker is blowing sweet
beauty thru our minds our eyebrows
round & touch into moons of short hair
2 more eyes tumors rip thru sky flesh centers
...

cheryl rainbeaux smith
pounds lava bubbling drums
thru the foggy heads of joan
jett's ghoulishly lost ancestors
...

there was a chicken
resonating over other yardbirds
that warbled like a long liquid corderoy clarinet
that rose from farm dirt with wings made of horse
...

to decide well we can't
do everything meanwhile

torrential serendipity,
...

marble
moon rolling around
earth
...

in a tree-circled field
edged with wolves, walnut
trees, webs, nets of bugs,
...

we weary.
we lose strength.
the world of the 1950's
is pure dream
...