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About The North Coast times-eagle. (Wheeler, Oregon) 1971-2007 | View Entire Issue (May 1, 2002)
PAGE 9 NORTH COAST TIMES E AG LE , MAY/JUNE 2002 THE EROTIC FLYING MACHINE MARGARET SCOTT THE DAYS SINK THROUGH ME The days sink through me as if I were a kind of huge filter first I receive them through my eyes through my ears and maybe through my mouth then they sink farther through me and stop some place far down where they settle above the preceding days they are very thin now like paper napkins When they have deposited their colorplay in me their light and shadows and their load of distinct or indistinct pictures they disintegrate and disappear. TULIPS come let us put our two lips you and i to the natural cups of life you and i wonderful bulbous flowering tulips you and i tickling the cilia in our nostrils you and i with its sexy pistils and stamens you and i drinking and sniffing their nectar you and i for spring is coming for us you and i wonderful bulbous flowering tulips you and i come let us put our two lips you and i to the natural cups of life you and i -ARTHUR HONEYMAN -UFFE HARDER There was once an erotic flying machine, it flew like a pterodactyl, flitted like a bat. The fuselage was shaped like a man and a woman back to back in love. The wings were tufts of pubic hair, and heart-shaped was the propeller. Wherever its valor and velour went birds followed it mating and strafing the clouds with love-calls and bird-shot. Once it flew to China, once it flew to Rome, when it landed in New York great clouds gathered around in disbelief. It was only after Valentine's Day came early that year and couples, complete strangers, fell down swooning and pawing at each other’s privates, that there was some sign of general acceptance among sophisticates. Next week a rock group rose like a rocket on the charts, sure enough, you named it, 'The Erotic Flying Machine’. Their first album was a smash hit: Fly In My Eye. The next, Soar Between My Legs, caused quite a ruckus. So driven out of style the part-bird part-human part-machine packed up its belongings and took off for the planet Venus. Astronomers, love-sick, follow it to this day, like a crippled comet, masturbating and mooning glued to a great eye-piece opening on the paradise of the universe and a flapping undulating speck, its groovy motion somewhat mocking a couple rocking in bed, bumping butts goes out of sight. -WALT CURTIS PRAYER he came from the west his lips said a prayer: all the buffalo shall return and those of our people who have gone before us shall be returned to us, and all the bloody spots on our mother earth shall be washed away forever; all the tribes shall gather together around one big fire, we shall sing one song, and we shall become as one person dancing ‘‘In a small town, in a society whose supreme interest is people, the past exists physically — empty chairs expect the dead, and not in vain.” -ELIZABETH SPENCER (1956) -ED EDMO WHAT IS GOING BY IS EVERYTHING TOGETHER id aeau ■ ■ »od .1. v Because we do All things together All things improve, Even weather Our daily meat And bread taste better, Trees greener, Rain is wetter. -PAUL ENGLE INTIMATE KISS FOULS People can help it sometimes fouls are ripped out to one another but it can come to a laugh instead of a fight temper aggression with candor and steep the dance of attack with peace Human tanks are clumsy as they charge at one another pissing off the most heavenly spirits as they strive towards Mars smashing devils break on each other but who really likes it I am tottering up the crows nest looking at pollywogs with sharp sticks Ravenspie someone squeaks from the balcony he leaps up into the cosmic wind believing himself to be free while a black stallion is shadowing his every thought and move everyone is connecting blackouts...riding down terror Lips Sweetly searching, tenderly tasting Gently igniting passion’s fire Lips touching Firm and fast or softly lingering Eager to satisfy trembling desire Lips savoring The lusty aroma of love And joy And bliss Ah, sweet intimate kiss -JANET KEIM I am stealthlocked and marched but mind and body are godfree all of internalized hateful knotted struggling and striving for goodness sake lifting towards the little glowing bundle of fairy light that blesses my soul not yet weary of living I try to please when I can but who am I but magical dirt The heights of Gollum, the ivory of Odin, breath of Jesus my vanity ebbs and flows with the sun and stars playing about the moon of earth but suffering and self pity of madness and confusion are my companions also fouls and bogs...unto the speeding machine of my youth But when I am sat to my guitar the heavens help this soul with the force of stars empowering divine and potent...fatherly and fallow...green and strong like lightning Peace Train gaining momentum, picking up passengers host to host times my head aches like Zeus, laughing Zeus who passes me like a locomotive Funny foul chaos from dischord’s little nip...old spider folk, skinny and fat wishing they were cats sit down step up, speed along life’s path...create your own little foxes but take care for they are blessed where they are hidden your senses dulled unbidden Oh gendarmes please don't foul me again for you’ve woke me from my nap all along the watch tower I run a’hollerin’ for a lamp Bright eyes with molten pupils, waxen flaxen hair searching for the raven girl to hear what she has dared she says the old Saint Paul has melted down, his altar's blood forsaken for thrice and seven times sent back the Jack of Knaves sits complaining -CHRISTOPHER KRAEMER At the edge of a clear stream generations of alder and fir from the beginning of stones. A fair breeze moves west with the current. Trout the size of my forearm lie in deep pools facing upstream. This morning I awoke clear-headed as the tops of pines, spring rain fell. A thread sewing shut the needle's eye. It is such a simple thing. As if for the first time last night I saw the stars spread across the heavens and I thought, how much better it would be to admit the spirit starves than this holding on as if the stars were not where they are but strapped upon my back. From high in a tree at the stream's edge an owl calls, dividing the world. I kneel to rinse my mouth, to beg the rising constellations. -JOHN BUCKLEY (d. 1999) ROSE’S LAMENT If I were a sun, I would just be me and have some fun. But I’m a daughter (With which nothing rhymes except otter), so I guess I must leam to slide down banks. Bread must have crust. -M CLARK WILDE OWL The owl knows. So does badger What? Don’t ask I’m neither -GERRY FOOTE RAVEN Me in my mountain coat it is snug and denim plastered and I sway on the city walks like a blue raven I, Raven, do not marry the whale. Ha, ha ha. No, we would never marry our mouths are not the same size. -SUSAN ANDERSON
