At the foot of the mountains

Like the spine of a rotting hump backed whale

Jockeying for position

The air a riot of radio waves, horns honking and people shouting

We sip flavored coffee from 55 gallon drums in 4/4

These are the rituals that sustain the great beast as it rises from its slumber

It takes a long time to get the line moving, and even longer to stop

Today it shrieks and drops to all fours

Toothy forced smiles lit amber and ruby glow

Eyes shining ahead through impenetrable terrain

Deep in a Mayan sweat

I cut across Louisianna like the right hand of god

I was thirsty

Yet — there is a kind of beauty here I think

It reveals itself in the half waking state between past and present tension

white knuckles cracking on the wheel at the end of the world

And the beginning of the next one grins and raises a flag

Letting me pass on through the outer gates just as the great beast dips its massive head

And disappears beneath the waves of cream

Rolling in from somewhere beyond this horizon

Hands

Out at the end of your arms,
outriggers on a great sailing vessel.

Ever turning to the myriad of tasks,
painting the landscape.

Bony and raw,
forever enduring.

Fashioning the perfect world.

Michael Radford ‘08

The Door……..

And so, this is the way of it.
You there in the hallway, me crouching in my room.

Suffer you not dismay, entrance into my room is forbidden to all.
Consideration for mutual saftey is the weight that bars the door.

Your ideas, hanging as coats in a closet there in the great hallway
while mine rest just behind the door upon the icy floor.

At the very beginning of time, light filled the room.
The portals have now sealed themselves.

I recall entering this room many lifetimes past,
the hallway was brightly lit as though the summer sun did rest therein.
The cold is viscious and cannot be killed here inside this cell.

Your thoughts resting there in the sun, mine imprisoned here just inside this door.

Perchance a miracle, the door would swing wide and our intellects collide
as two comets in the night.
A great shower of sparks as our views combine and tumble to the earth.

What a fabulous dream
Alas, I awake to discover there was never a door at all.

I had simply closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Michael Radford
12-12-06

SMILE

Day is long, sun hot, toil is fierce.

Moving forward the hard concrete rises up to smash into my feet.

Gravity forces me to the ground.

Then, just over there, the instant smile of a child.

It all rushes back to me.

SIDEWALKS

Looking out at everybody
ridin’ in their new soft life,

They got that look that says
I’m Gods wife.

They engineered their world
insulated from reality,

Smile on their face
got a little hint of insanity.

Deep introspection,
a pause for reflection.

No, I’m afraid not,
you see, this lane is closed.

I’m knowin’ there are some who have
traveled out too far.

I see’em in the streets when I’m
ridin’ in my car.

Shaggy clothes
vacant stare.

Gotta dog too,
one with nasty hair.

They mutter and they mumble,
wildly throwin’ up their hands.

Just keep on walkin’,
ain’t got no plans.

If you think it’s scary
when they cast a fearsome glance.

Imagine being prisoner
in their nightmare trance.

Let’s all lock our doors
and switch on the alarm.

Think of ways to distance ourselves
to escape from harm.

I don’t think you’ve noticed
there’s more of them these days.

So hide you well and scurry like a rat,
slip behind your Oakleys.

You don’t have to deal with that,