how to fly an airplane into the side of a mountain (dalliance of the dumbfucks) final draft… i think

step one: do nothing
as the flight attendants take their break in the baggage hold playing dice games 
the pilot performs stand-up in first class as the last green olive on earth swims
                                                             in his
                                                             very dry
the inflight meal was a can of worms
the inflight movie was a documentary on the opiate effects of inflight movies
the strike-ready snake will not hesitate
the headlights of the tracker-trailer will not blink
political pundits scream theater in a crowded fire
and all the hamsters trade their hamster wheels for happy meals 
corporate risk managers travelling to the annual security convention 
block the emergency doors wearing parachutes half-eaten from last year’s plague 
							of desert locust   
not to worry though, these miracles of modern flight are quite safe
like high school lunchroom vending machines with rocket wings
peanuts and soft drinks available, and when we reach cursing speed passages are free 
to play hockey throughout the cabin				
all the doctor’s doctor their doctrines of the dying patient’s last rite to righteousness 
	(righteousness (noun) ((?)) a highly volatile substance manufactured in the mind
 dirty burning no alternative fuel always blowing up in someone’s face)

a mountain looms 
with big purple arms open wide beckoning: 
come to daddy!
come to gravity! drop your f bombs over denver and set your engines on fire
hurry home, my fat purple plum, come back to earth 
this big dumb rock, this star-dust recycler, big blue fish tank 
and if you believe this marble is your mother, then you must know 
she is scolding you: if you can’t solve your problems yourself, then i will
							solve them 
                                                                 for you
which is great news for the cockroach who dreams of opposable thumbs

step two: as we make our final approach 
please note the “woot-woot” sign has been turned on

and i will be posting new poems very soon. sorry, i had to take the summer off from writing, and i mean HAD to =)

sunday muse #214

sydney seems bitten, just stares at the stars, and the stars consume her, we wonder where she goes when those story-time-eyes close, coveralls covered in clover, grass stain knees, croaking frog, soaking wet, moonlight dripping from her hair, she chases fireflies, or maybe they’re falling stars (sydney has a little ant farm, and everywhere that sydney goes, fire ants are sure to burn ghosts down) she also dreams of poppies, all the colors she can remember, all the colors she can smell, they grow as tall as immortals, she dreams she can climb as high as she wants
all the way to the moon
or straight into a storm 

posted for the sunday muse