‘God’s Brain’ by Peter Wild (1940-2009)

    
    
This is what happens to God’s thoughts

                                    as they become more secular,

         for uncounted ages a white mass

                                        of seething cottage cheese

                                 expanding over the lovely altiplano

                and doing exactly what it has to do

                                                   entirely happy with itself,

until reaching the edge of the table

                                gobs of it begin falling off,

                  dropping there, the hills of Barstow, California,

                          beside the rusted railroad

                                                  along the sandy river,

      the sulfurous curd

                       of its own permanent sunset.

And the people living there now?

                                   They have a vague memory

           from childhood of once having escaped from the circus.

       If you ask them, they won’t say

                that the Great Buddha himself sometimes hurried,

            but as they stand there thinking about it

                        you can see the possibility

                                                  quivering on their lips.

(published in Permafrost, vol. 17, 1995)

‘Research Trip, Yucca Valley’ by Peter Wild (1940-2009)

    

     
Tired of being homeless,

                   of being fed by the ravens

             because women won’t believe them,

       at night the Joshua trees

   begin walking out of the mountains toward town

                   where they, too, will put their money down

                               and eat in restaurants

           while the tourists look,

        shocked at what’s happened to the world.

But when the sun soars up,

      at that sudden burst, their first challenge,

          they stop, like any crazed soldiers

                                                     caught in a minefield

                      thinking that by standing still

                                                   they’ll be invisible.

Going home on this flying research trip

                           on which at the end of the desert road

              we found the widow waiting at her door,

                                                                         who by magic

     handed us the manuscript of the nephew

                    all his life secretly in love with his cousin,

         the first thing in the morning

                                          you rush bushy-tailed

                         out of the Oasis of Eden Motel

               and insisting I take your picture with one

                                       strike your actress’s crepuscular pose,

                            laughing that the less I know

                                              the more you’re full of joy.

(published in  Permafrost, vol. 17, 1995)

‘Brains Bashed in by Sledgehammers’ by Antler

“It all boils down to jobs,”

          the Secretary of State told

                     the American Public in answer

          to why we must go to war.

Threat of shutdown hovers over your factory.

Fear of layoff ulcers your office.

Job security erodes

           at all levels of the job ladder.

Firms can’t be expected to promise

           a raise in salary every year.

The thought of longer vacation time

           is out of the question.

Psychiatric megaclinics have no choice but urge

           displaced workers overqualified for

                      dead-end low-paying part-time jobs

           cash in their retirement money.

The banker’s mistress fears she looks worse

           after liposuction.

The developer’s call-girl jeers at the environmentalist—

           “Ten years ago you were yelling—

                      ‘We’ve only got ten years to save the Earth!’”

The executive’s prostitute likes her Caribbean cruise,

           even if most of the time looking at scenery

                      there was a big cock in her mouth.

The professor lectures his students

           who faithfully record each word—

                      “Like the laws of physics,

           the laws of economics can’t be broken,

                      whether sloths loathe lathes no matter,

           whether Bushmen only work 15 hours a week no matter.”

The astronomer wears a suit and tie

           even when alone at night at the telescope.

The thought the Solar System is so big our Earth compared to it

           is as an atom compared to the Earth,

The thought some Galaxies are so big our Galaxy compared to them

           is as an atom compared to the Earth,

The thought how do we know the Universe wasn’t formed complete

           just last night with all our supposed memories,

Do nothing for him:  45 years ago, yes,

           but now he pays them no mind.

Now all he sees is his son who hates him and who he hates

           juggling three jobs to study poetry

                      so he can write things like:

           there are more planets with Utopias on them

                      than all the beheaded heads in history,

           or this Universe is just an alveolus

                      in the lung of a lungfish

           in another dimension.

10 miles away in another city an 8th grader

           writes above the urinal—

                      “Show hardon for blowjob.”

100 miles away a welfare bum is interrogated

           for stealing a wallet.

1000 miles away a soldier tries to push his intestines back in

           but it doesn’t work.

2000 miles away the owner-of-the-owners-of-100-factories’ day

           is spoiled discovering benefits for workers

                      are cutting into profits.

           How to get more out of them for less?

3000 miles away Eskimos must sell their wilderness

           or set up the oil rigs themselves:

                      how else can their young men make money?

Every day more and more Americans feel they won’t be happy

           till poets quit complaining and get a job.

Antler, from Milwaukee, offers $10,000 reward

           to anyone who can disprove his work.

(published in Permafrost, vol. 17, 1995)