A sad
voice
in her
stomach,
coming up
as acid
in her
throat.
Drugs
a kind
of
Pepto-Bismal
to soothe
the reflux
of
memories. LS

Pull down the shroud mist
stand invisible among the things of gods
let fallen volcanic ashes whiten
your hair your hands your feet
dance in the dead woods of arcady
wade in dark streams rushing past
read the yarrow root and stalk
walk widdershins into the wind
then let blue wings twitch inside you then
lift your face to the nascent sun. LS

Ukulele Recluse - 1925

And guess what?
My poems are still junk,
it wasn't my idea
to put them in a series,
I just submitted a bunch
then he made the editorial call,
what would you have done?
I am seriously some kind of a nut
and major anxiety freak outs
waiting for them to appear,
to hell with writing,
so I pull out my I Ching book
a random character on the page
number 51 - The Chên Hexagram
Thunder repeated : the image of SHOCK
a hundred thousand times you lose your treasures
and the only thing keeping me sane
these days
is my new Mainland 1920's inspired
solid mahogany concert ukulele
with the sweet tweed case,
of course I still think of you
and fancy,
it's been awhile.      

* * *

Una Mas Cervesa  

someday I'll tell you the story
when me and my sister Shel
were hanging with the Forbidden Pigs,
they were playing the Texas Teahouse in Ocean Beach,
Billy Bacon standing on his upright Kay
in a turban
singing about "Love is Dead",
and how he ran after those bikers with a crow bar
when they kicked him in the jaw
seven stitches in emergency
he has a scar to this day,
the sisters were screaming and petticoats flying
at that dive bar with the old black and white tile
and cool juke box next to Winstons,
we just wanted to listen to some Freddie Fender
beer and tequila shot with lime,
and they asked him who cut his hair
when he said Sgt. Carter
reckon they didn't like that answer
or his Buddy Love sharkskin suit,
and it was on.    LS