Two Decade Hangover
An oscillating madness
Like the twenty-year howl
Of impotent hyenas—
Shrill
Shrieking
Schlock—
Blows the encumbering cobwebs
And reveals the
Fundamental dry rot.
Crewcuts
Brylcream
Primal chords
Jerk the memories and mores
Back to the visceral
Atavistic anarchy
Spotlighting Spengler
As an optimist.
— Zumwalt (1981)
Overweight Legionnaires
Ripening wine
And a greedy fire
Throw on another log
While the fog coagulates about the limes
And chokes Eboracum
In a clammy shroud.
Hadrian’s Wall’s gone mossy—
Too cold for laid back Latins
Pouring libations
While we watch the
Gonzo Celts
Digging up the peat.
— Zumwalt
TICKER TAPE PARADE
Parody Worship
Smiling in the Dusk of Midnight Eyes
Acting in the Bleakness
of Frosted Minds
Paced Paper Parade —
Pausing Promises Pleading
Past the Cineramic
Sycophantic Sharks
a Coldness Recedes
and Faith Breakers Retreat
into Placebos of Reeling Celluloid
— Zumwalt (1981)
Bull Market
The gardeners have hit the pavement,
Bulldozed by smiling engineers
Optimists—peddling bromides.
Take your pick:
Withdraw your last fiver
For a philosophic Wheel-O;
or,
Hands in your pockets, sardonic
Watch Babel climb.
“On this spot will be erected utopia”
Yeah, sure.
But, the wise man knows Penelope
Has taken on Ithaca
And counsels Odysseus to put his
Money in Krugerrands.
— Zumwalt (late 1980’s)
deleterious habitat
hot southern heat
baking your alaska
the smog fills your
lungs like sand
in a dersadrop humidifier
breathing is a function
and we are approaching an asymptote
three toed sloths trek through the treptremanian soil
burning air and burning phylum
cough…
cough…
cough…
It is time to let me out.
— Zumwalt (1974)
might as well forget her
she's
dropped
like a hot rock
pizza pipers peddling pieces of purposeful product
not at all like
lipstick, perfume, deodorants
and other such shallow items
cleatamenthate degarglycide throntine
it does me no good to say i miss her
i don't
and if I ever find myself missing her
then something's missing in me
craters, black light, dew drops, frozen stages,
and a topping of dehydrated marshmallow sauce.
the world is full --
it's full of fools
and common sense has vaporized
like an ice cube on the sun.
— Zumwalt (1974)
no purchase necessary
available
conveniently
select and seize
no contract
no lease
no terms
no conditions
the wild sunbreezed days
spawning and spawned
extra innings without fouls or errors
endlessly imaged in a corridor of mirrors
cloud nine working overtime
free and without obligation
but paradise has a hidden cost
when it is ultimately misplaced
no clue,
no expectation,
no indefinite hunch
no single crumb to munch
just the indigestion
of a bait and switch free lunch
which in retrospect,
not an attractive offering,
even though free,
and initially,
relatively
needily/speedily
back-seat, magic-carpet-ride breezily easy.
— zumwalt (2011)
hairytoes
By being able to select
from unlimited, boundless choice
I confuse a frightened mosquito mind with
possibilities and potentials
and so I restrain
and constrain my selections
by a dreamed reality
that has up/down,
right, left
front, back and
then and now (now and then.)
So much like Crazy Eights, Monopoly and countless sit-coms
there is a start and end:
a start I don’t remember but have been retold,
an end that I can’t know or even squint at.
My hairy sister has hairy toes
but we keep her in a closet amongst the clothes
and pinch her cheeks with feigned hospitality:
a time-tested approach to growing this pretended, sequential, unexplainable, territorial reality.
— zumwalt (2011)
she started to stop ironing
creases and wrinkles
pouts and interpretations
a phone number from Port Said
left in a pocket
Oh, how the gin fizzes stir
and music concurs
as veils drip like honey
Ah,
how the cover
stays low
so the currency flows
like foot traffic at
the dusty bazaar
“I’ll show you Egypt” has been her most memorable reply
but I doubt her intentions and so plan another solo excursion
hoping that
once I return
that crumpled, rumpled look
will be comfortably cool at work
— Zumwalt (1998)
the wreck of goodwill
every dime counted
seemed to count itself
but the pennies were the trouble spot
and the cost of all goodwill.
— Zumwalt (1998)
