Nocturnal Emissions (15 page)

Channel 6:

thirteen

poems

THE HEAD OF ROBERT SCOW

The moment that Robert Scow was born

The clocks all struck thirteen

The doctor crossed himself and said

“It’s the ugliest child I’ve seen”

The nurse in attendance was barely stopped

From dousing him with gasoline

Poor Robert Scow

In order to safely raise their child

His parents blindfolded their eyes

And sometimes they wore plugs in their ears

To stifle the neighbors’ cries

Birds that chanced to see his face

Plummeted dead from the skies

Poor Robert Scow

As a grown man he acquired a job

Herding cows from here to there

He didn’t need to chase them much

They just fled away from his stare

And when the farmers needed meat

He slew those cows with just a scare

Poor Robert Scow

But on the farm he met his end

When his front got severed clean

While Robert Scow was trying to fix

His invented cow de-boning machine

The farmer kicked his head in a sack

Sold its picture to every magazine

Poor Robert Scow

The farmer’s son went on to become

Famous both wide and far

From intimidating all that he knew

With that head preserved in a jar

Threatened beautiful women into his bed

And even managed to get a free car

Poor Robert Scow

But upon his death that infamous jar

Shifted from hand to hand

Stopping hearts and killing crops

Across the breadth of this great land

And where that jar has ended up

It’s better that we don’t understand

Poor, poor Robert Scow

THE HAUNTED BIRDHOUSE

It’s high on its pole and it has two floors

Big enough for half a flock

If it could squeeze inside its doors

It could accept a full-sized cock

He heard their twitters that first night

When he inherited that property

But whether day or at twilight

A live bird he never did see

He heard the flutter of their wings

At midnight when good birds rest

And at that hour, what bird sings

Instead of slumbering in its nest?

Finally he saw a floating light

Like a fairy at the avian abode

And realized it was a bird in flight

But it was bluish and oddly glowed

After that he saw more specters appear

A translucent and luminous race

And a kind of wonder conquered his fear

As he wondered what had taken place

Were these the victims of a long-dead cat

That had broken them all with its claws

An episode so traumatic that

It caused a moment in time to pause?

Or carrier pigeons killed in a war

Delivering messages from hand to hand

And though the battle was no more

Cruelly fated to never touch land?

Did they represent an extinct breed

As if preserved in a museum display?

Or pests that were killed eating poisoned seed To rid a garden of noisy play?

They were his pets and he was their friend

Their songs kept him awake no more

He hoped when it was his time to end

That he too might sing and soar

A
mastodonut
will get hair on your tongue They’re so stale they’re extinct, and that ain’t young.

The
astronautilus
floats like a living balloon In the dark sea of space that embraces the moon.

And the
pyramidiot
sits with his hands in his lap An Egyptian design to his fool’s dunce cap.

Elephanthill
tunnels could fit subway trains Those pachyderms burrow through Earth’s membranes.

Vertebrains
muse as they drift through the sky Spines trail like tails as they glide by.

The
antiquestion
is as old as the sun When’s a single a pair and two things one?

BLUE OAK TREE

In old
Ash
Grove
Cemetery
it resides

Squirrels in its branches and moss on its sides The oak with the sapphire blue leaves.

For a hundred years it claimed its space

Before that strange change took place

The oak with the sky blue leaves.

The last leaves it shed were a crimson hue

But that Spring’s buds were all colored new

The oak with the blue, blue leaves.

Some say the oak tree changed inside

When Miss Mary Long committed suicide

Hanging amidst its once-red leaves.

At night when the sky is black as tar

And the oak tree looms like a ladder to the stars You’ll still see Mary amidst those blue, blue leaves.

THE EMBRYOS

Old Lloyd shot his coon hound when he discovered that It had coughed up a fetus with wings like a bat.

But this mysterious curse wasn’t confined to his dog Lloyd hacked up a fetus that leapt away like a frog.

Soon the librarian then the mayor then a sizable bunch Produced more of these imps when they recycled their lunch.

They trapped each in a bottle like a distorted doll And preserved them alive in alcohol.

These hideous infants could give quite the scare They had enough to supply every last country fair.

The town built a new barn and lined all its shelves To keep those jars locked up safe away from themselves.

But soon enough the town woke to a blast in the night Some infernal spark caused the alcohol to ignite.

Everyone watched as ash rose aglow in the sky The soaring embryos aflame as they vanished on high.

PHONES

The phone is a weapon more insidious

Than a nuclear bomb

The ring corrodes my nervous system

A slow, cancerous torture

The bill collector waits til the kitchen-white gun Is to my temple

And makes me shoot myself

My blood is in the mail, I assure him

Lying, of course

Dracula, Nosferatu and Vlad

My friends

Called me the other day

Poured their intestines in on their end

And they came out through the holes

Like those of a meat grinder

On my end

Then they sucked out my blood

So on their end it would spray through the holes Like those of a shower faucet

Hey, what are phones for?

They give everyone in the world a voice

To nail into my head if they so desire.

BEDROCK

Wilma and Fred will end up dead

In Bedrock

Their bones will be found all stuck in the ground In Bedrock

Barney and Fred will have a fight

Hit each other on the head with a trilobite

Lay like
Pompeii
clay and turn bleached white In Bedrock

Dr. Leakey would get freaky at the goings-on

In Bedrock

Darwin
would be howlin’ at the madcap times

In Bedrock

The Creationists all up in arms

Not amused in the least by Dino’s charms

They got their own theories ‘bout those bones and
cairns
In Bedrock

Kubrick’s got it wrong there’s no Zarathustra song In Bedrock

And don’t misconceive there’s no Adam or Eve

In Bedrock

National Geographic will be hearing bells

And more mystical types won’t be feeling well When they find that man dawned on animation cells In Bedrock

I love the pratfalls of those Neanderthals

In Bedrock

I’m the biggest fan of Cro-Magnon man

In Bedrock

Pebbles and Bam Bam are the missing link

Got an elephant trunk in their kitchen sink

Those were the days I’m inclined to think

In Bedrock

(And with a little luck we’ll stay alive

Live with the Jetsons in their bee-like hive

Isn’t life fun on channel five?

Gimme Bedrock)

A CHRISTMAS CARD

May today light the way for brighter tomorrows May you lose all your money so you have to beg and borrow May your foot go in your mouth so you have to eat your words May you look to the sky and get hit with pigeon turds May you be stranded in the Sahara without a drop of water May Polish siamese twins impregnate both your daughters May the streets of your future be paved with bricks of tin May a midget in a bad mood come up to kick your shin May you be pecked and stung a lot when you learn the birds and bees May the Great Dog of Life come to consecrate your tree May you fall and be impaled on a stale loaf of sliced white bread May your next blind date be with one of the living dead May you find your dear grandma is really a shameless floozy May the president drop an atom bomb in your new jacuzzi May the horseflies of good fortune follow you where you go May you trip and fall face first in a pile of yellow snow May a baboon in a snit punch your cousin in the gut May a mutant mold from Mars come to colonize your butt May your next sexual conquest rate your performance with a yawn May each of Santa’s reindeer leave an offering on your lawn At this Christmas time of year may God bless us every one And may He drink too much punch and squash you just for fun.