a simple answer woulda

April 27, 2015 § Leave a comment

having mouthed a saidfull about comfort creatures and

therapy scents

his sonicfication of 

ambient harshness came
in its
undulatory locomotion 
melodic as a pneumatic drill
a blaring cort├Ęge in serpentine along unguarded senses
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

our Lewis

April 24, 2015 § Leave a comment

the inn –

with different things   
showing
cleric and epic and
deity
off to Europe
with no money
for untiring fluids
bought
is the first half of a place for 
our Lewis, as said
“it is a lot of
fire in unguided wiles
to the is”
when a quick look wheels back around to what he said
said was “urgency to intend a good idea, if ever, to chide
as when
I met Anjali
she being an heiress
in a good job
       l do mean to the whole”
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 
 

planting onions

April 21, 2015 § Leave a comment

four rows of onions
in for sorrows 

with
each bulb pushed
into furrows
along
mounded rows
went a wee bit of trouble
tiny worries gathered
throughout the day 
ensconced 
within a chrysalis of
earth
waiting (as we are   all)
for transformation 
to begin it’s work 
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 40

April 20, 2015 § 4 Comments

Chapter 40
– hypo 
his needle is
is to stay
in excelsiored dreamscape,
a final conversation
always a playback away
         but the rooster
         sticks to the only
         plan he knows
a rumpled man rises to

notice a sickle in the sky

it brought to mind
                 the moon
as it was the night he realized
there was to be
a portion he
would have to
leave behind
a segment of his youth
the ages
would have to decide
             a proper place for 
now he        (     if
captured in archival footage   ) 
            
     would be observed
     seemingly to be waiting
for certain years
to die, finally, a
good
quiet death
guard bird sings truth to an audience of dawn and the one
destined to spend
his remaining time on 
this stage
(cobbled from coffin planking
& emptied book shelving)
balancing clarity 
(a plate spinner
in monochromatic perpetuity)
trying to forget names
trying to forget numbers
trying to cold turkey 
an addiction 
to the rewind
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 39

April 11, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 39
Chapter 39
– sloth’s puzzlement 
laying
        in dream
inducing 
garden
in front of the porch
                      he
       (being of scientific mind)
tried to piece together 
proceeding days
with logic
             mathematics 
however
having been drunk
Tuesday,
         so long.
wed. never arrived
another gap in existence 
another overlooked clue
     a poppy can 
quiet a mind     instill
   an
instinct for reverence 
(the trick being 
– locating proper point of  emersion)
((& recognizing 
misdirected preference))
as name implied he moved slow in getting to his feet
and turning toward the sound of the tractor emerging from the barn   a trick-
    of memory a moment moored by a thread 
       of clearer head
       of hand on handle
       of candle and seal
a remembrance straining against 
hold of the cleat 
time to adhere
to notion of passage
       little more
before 
the line snapped
& into a drift again away
sloth kicked empty bottles aside picked a bloom for his lapel mostly because he figured it Friday and there was tradition written down somewhere of celebrating that day in one fashion or another though it was actually Thursday and his adornment was just another out of place icon to be defended with churlish blubbering’s 
Bewilderhof cut the tractors engine and climbed down to attach a hay wagon just as sloth was passing
“how are you with change?” sloth asked
Bewilderhof didn’t look up
addressing his answer more to the hitch than the embodied hangover doing the asking
“I’m all for it…
but not around here”
climbing back into the saddle he finally acknowledged sloths presence by tipping his cap
          B: hey,
          s:  hmmm?
          B:  what’s
                with the     
                    flower?
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

seismicity

April 9, 2015 § Leave a comment

mistrust that seeps
into
cracks 
in any mantle
will always
lead to slip
along the fault
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

within

April 9, 2015 § Leave a comment

sky, this morning sang
harmony rises from rim
of the bowl I’m in
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 38

April 8, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 38
Chapter 38
– a meeting concludes 
– been,
                       he had
since youth,
swayed by       this
director of unending
tutelage 
           stayed
unbent
to be, covered (as if rime,
these arctic utterances)
if not warning,
         the zest of one then
– derived from scrapings
of evidential dilemma
& taking up residence 
in the 
bitter portion 
    of tongue 
repeating 
      (as circumstances demanded)     circumstantial 
          pejoratives
against the simple
and weak willed
repeated and again
should a stumble 
into the alley
of forgetfulness   leaves
the agenda unattended to
there is a pebble collector 
to be considered 
one who wants answers from
daytime stars
but refuses to listen
        even to his own
        circuitous 
        devotions
that he mutters
walking the hedgerow
      – the line of possession 
or drawing a cup
from the spring
a beachhead ahead
        if taking into account 
        tattered banner
        fractured mast
rising above horizon 
these thoughts (forming as quorum to drive validity)
were 
the thing
that maddened
his days
she left him with 
a kiss and a caution
he left a 50
picked up his 
      keys
and shaded his eyes
against 
the impulse of the sea
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

easterin’

April 5, 2015 § Leave a comment

Kiwi Oxblood
paste &

towel 
          my mother had 
          cut one into strips 
          for the buffing
on the floor before 
Davey & Goliath 
lilies on table
a spot of chocolate 
(to be covered
by a clip-on
just before being
corralled into
the Impala)
then off to hear
the tale retold
   with bell ringers and chorus
and a stop for more baskets 
(ones my mother bought and planted around her fathers house)       on the way
                             home
I could sense in her
joy        the
aspect of
rebirth    not that I could tie that phrase to what
I sensed,
but the mornings pageantry 
seemed to leave an
impression of floating 
Dad, well,
he was harder
to read
unless it came to
fishing or coaching
little league
for him
spring was a rototiller
lawn chair evenings and
a 16 ouncer or two
before cooling
of the air drove
him inside
the first Sunday after the full moon came late that year
so he lucked out
it was warm 
even after sundown 
so the house was quiet
when I heard him come in
and laugh about
something with mom
I’m sure I gave a quick security check under the plastic grass
before I fell asleep 
I knew
     there were
scoundrels about
the sanctity of the season
notwithstanding 
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 37

April 1, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 37
Chapter 37
– a question of surface tension 

how many times

can a man drown
in brine of self imposed   
    delusion  before resigning
himself to 
       simply
                   float 
until currents bring him
upon brighter shores?
this question
– nowhere among
  files in overflow
scheme as panacea for a less placating curriculum 
              modus cogitatio
his, his
as moss replicating
behind towering glass,
his
whilst
citified corpuscular 
crowd
moves in arterial confusion
      never stopping
not for lights not for pedest
-rian 
not for rest nor right of way
they in 
the hive         thrum
     if
with occasional bend of 
neck to follow 
      angle of        dusk
they
may catch a pane
         that does not reflect 
last light
               of day
& he may catch the squint 
        & be raised by it
sustained by their
       wonderment 
but who can be certain it is not just another in a growing chain of false risings
a momentary surfacing
of nostril 
above the breakers
before 
sinking
sets in again
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead 

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