The Blackwood Press DUB 'log

Radiohead plays as I write in my new home
I love it here, pros out way the cons
as much as the con is terrible
the absolute beauty here is undeniable
and now I have to shit
I should of thought of that before
I walked down here
now I’m forced to walk back to the main house
no big deal but it always seems to creep
back up by the time I get there
needless to say I look forward
to settling into a routine
now that I think about trading my
orange diamonds for white
do I need it? don’t know but
I’m willing to rely on a crutch
for a while
maybe I should just shit in a plastic bag
I have ass wipe
maybe I’d feel a lot better
maybe then I could concentrate on poetry
instead of this semi-autobiographical
account of boringness
ughhhh! so much better
aside from a few squito bites on my ass
today will be a day of cleaning
sorting the ‘Ranchita’ and pushing
dirt around giving the
aesthetic of cleanliness
we need a shop vac and washing machine
a propane stove and water heater
I think right now all we have is cold water

my second day descending
Big in the Sur
the cabin isn’t as small as I remembered
and we found out there is no money
for an addition, no biggie
I worked yesterday my first day
helped set up and put in
a 500 gal. water tank, hoo-wee fun
got to learn about building surveying
learned how to plumb a bit
and of course
putting in the water tank

this morning drinking my morning tea
up at the main house I noticed
every morning I’m here,
I wake up to inventory
inventory of the itches
is it mosquito is it spider
but always…is poison oak
I made a solid effort whilst working
to avoid any at all costs
but this morning I found
that I miserably failed
failed again, and failed forever
so now I realize I’m faced with a year
a full body year
of fanatical itching and
low grade irritability waking nights
scratching till bleeding
feeling like I want to
extract the first three layers of skin
with a razor because the sting
is easier than the itching

god damn my ass is numb
and now I see some flowers

such a place of paradise
to line highways with flowers

the way he flips me birds
makes me feel so at home

even though she’s there
I manage to still feel alone

but only on Tuesdays

tonight I’ll sip scotch
to ease the synaptic rush

closer to the life of the earth
the life of the ocean

my nose ceases to bleed
tonight I’ll feast a’ la’ yuppie

Cali-cuisine but fuck, it is so beautiful
maybe too nice like call me home

calling me names and throwing its own stones

Palm trees and 3 hybrids
I talk about myself too much
four Acura’s and four pretty girls
five women with short cuts
in Toyota trucks with curly locks
six down out of 18 Bud-mules
seven of seventeen signs
for Best Western fools
8 nosebleeds some while driving
eight droppers of various items on my shirt
I fixed my bar slide and feeling funky
about to hit Sonoma and fall out
nine reps of nine push ups I’ll do
even if it takes till tomorrow noon
and 10 is 10 of the most true embraces
giving over to her every piece of my mind
my heart and soul
California

3 hours max
that’s all we have left
meeting friends in Sonoma
gunna have fun gunna rest
glad of a safe journ out West
wait wait
we should pull over and help that man
as we go speeding by and he pushes
his ‘dat brat’ up the street
50 feet from the scenic treat

I just broke the bar return
some how as I was smoking
another flaw of character
will I maintain my integrity?
while I’m here
wanting and living the ideal
there is nothing in my life
that doesn’t have something
good going for it

pulling in to another fill up
further down the snake back
20 cents separates the gas pack
so lines and lines impatient
pulled a maneuver and caused a foray
readjusted and pissed off an old lady
she confronted and took off
switching drivers almost hit a car
out of the blue Rain gave a laugh
and pulled my flips from below her lap
she called me a nut and pinched my butt
and kept on laughing
until the heat got us again
this was right as Cali came into sight
love it love it live this land
green trees and views, lakes and rivers
so much so that we stopped at the Yuba
it was so hot and the oasis
calmed with supple hands to caress our bodies

the water was cool and clear
we walked gentile rapids to a small pool
dipped our bodies
floated in the sun of the evening
reeling in happiness holding
each other a-float
washing the grime of a 3000 mile road

grinding through Nevada
stopping for gas at Winihaha
or Whinimecca

my baby wrapped her arms around my neck
as I supported her weight
and I rubbed the stiffness from her spine

as we were leaving I left
my water on the roof
gently stopped and retrieved it

would’ve been sad to have lost our bottle
baby just passed “Reno with the vitamin D”
creeping back to thoughts last week

my baby Rain asleep on the car seat
stopped for water to beat the heat
got out the car with nothing on my feet

I look and I look and realize
I left my flips standing by
at the gas station forever goodbye

Back cramped sitting fetal
the flats and pudding hills
salts and death, sagebrush and sun
on our backs we continue
across the Mormon paradise

“God, could you imagine
just living out here!”
she said as I thought about
being beaten
by the sun all day and
no shadows in sight

Why when only alone
can I cease to be my own?

M&M’s took the brown color out
few years later
Eminem came out the spout shoutin’
I think about him
and the concepts of sin
government projects to prohibit
and inhibit not just speech
never knowing how close to the crease
cuff down to the sleeve
cuff to cuff down around the knees
never again expected to utter a please

how can there be so many roads
it seems there’s one road
for every person in America
some straight some crooked
some pavement some gravel
some with more signs than others
some with readable lines
some with but barely a few trotters
consistent old friends
and others like interstate dates
rushing rushing rushing
some expand across the continents
some never leave home

drove too far last night
there wasn’t a hotel in sight
400 miles of non-vacant spots
finally ending in Salt Lake rots

The Late Nighter Motel
El Royo Loco Pollo
owned by Koreans
we lucked out total
as a sex worker just got the boot
right as we pulled up
our last hope and try
a two bed smoking room
oven dirty filth

smoke hole sheets
so bad we brought our own
blanket and slept up top
after 17 hrs in the sauna of the car
I stank wanted to wash
but the caked tub
hosed head stopped my tracks
the only thing I thought upon rising
is that it’s lucky the car didn’t get
burgled or broken
$70 waste of poor sleep
but happy to be prostrate of some hours

she walked down to its shores
water
it almost evaporated as soon as it touched
her skin
a little hiss
sounded the four dominant layers
the horizon
now
besides here is there, further, even further
and farthest
consisting of concentric lines of elevation gain
all the way to jagged Wyoming peaks

Where the biggest display of
white trashed play
was through this state
four dilapidated houses
three houses living, not much better
count em’ 8 trailer rat palaces
on and on, rows and rows
on this 2 acre lot
stood thousands of parts
different cars
construction vehicles
and farming implements
all alone
all baking under the filament sun
thrusting themselves
almost heaving with escape
20 feet from a thousands passing