by Andrew Schelling

Myself I’ll try — it —
go the way things go
mountains walk that way
rivers dash through — it —

there it was
the Red Pine Motel, South Broadway
torn mattresses & oily car parts in the yard.
a child waved
for no reason

Let’s take her pagan joy — maybe
goddess — creed — it won’t produce
bigotry, no fancy car, no fit of rage
at the traffic signal

Granite, basalt
the Platte River grinds through, drying out
It’s 100 degrees on the street
that child waved

for no reason
The Red Pine Motel has a banged up metal
pine tree —
neon sign that’s yellow

by Andrew Schelling

Can you name the flowers
& burgundy colored grasses of
autumn?

This is for those
who perform love as the poets sing it
one image
that wears through the page
is the world.

Remember
the stroke of midnight hair

heart against heart the draw
of pubic desire
darkening lavender in the
hollows of spirit

Why did the old–time poets
rage their grammatical

hearts out?

be kind to her, to all creatures
on the bare
shelf of life

Hurt comes, do not increase it.

Icy fog
coats every herb of the slope.

by normal

lazy ole winter dog
laying there counting his days
counting his hours
lymph node cancer working its way thru
in the house of sobs, the ole boy is snoring
master & mistress passing by, shielding their tears
ole dog is yawning, paws & eyes opening & closing
winter storm at the window
lazy ole winter dog is secretly smiling
times are good
he’s finally won the war for milk bones,
as many as he wants,
no questions asked

late november 2021

by normal

“ – – – and our blood will melt iron
and our breath will melt steel
we shall stare face to face with naked eyes
and our tears will make earthquakes – – – ”
––– lenore kendall, first they slaughtered the angels – –

“ – – and our tears will make earthquakes”

I

a man dies when his shoes have eaten their way up his
throat & strangles his voice with torn leather
a man dies in times of holocaust in a bin of one
hundred human skulls
a man dies in a place blue butterflies have come to rest
a man will be a god, a man will kiss a tyrants ass
a man dies one day with the knowledge his children
have lost their memory
a man dies executing his own soul in cold blood.

II

& girls continue to carry beautiful faces
& bombs give heart attacks & never give love
& a snow monkey glitters in the sun her magnificent
delirium
& the rain tips the scales of the scales of the morning
& men continue to work in factories
men continue to mate with loneliness & technology
the afternoons remain lovely
the beasts remain hungry
the dying remain strange & haunting & awful
a leaf grows touches of yellow
a virgin takes god for a husband
a man lies one day playing hand ball, or so they say
& the poet fades back into the folds of the earth.

july 2023