Monday, May 24, 2010


marion clock tower
modified 10.4.11


*It Rains in Southern Illinois

It rains in Southern Illinois
I hear the farmers rooster
entertaining on the roof.
Playing point
we point to play
our old memories
saved for years in the mind
or just fake.

In Rend Lake
I see a sea of "Rendan"
coming to dotcoming
in the silent Marina
with no tourists.

We miss Crab Orchard Lake
in the crowd
under sunny blue sky.

Pacing a guilty wind
grating the fog
singing blues
on the crossroads.

As innocent as an old revolutionary
ardent hearts slipping into the bed of
a rolling gypsy.
the home of a homeless
just was born
in the middle of nowhere.

A magic realist bird
came to the kitchen
and closed the window
to the night.

On the top of a ladder
someone is pouring paint
on the pavement.
Marion is all murals
in Tower Square
and someone on the ladder
painting someone
on the ladder.

Be young in Deyoung
with new Main Street
delighted with desire,
Marion has a Main Street
and a Main Street
like twice the old days America
not being devoured by suburbs.

We tour around Marion Clock Tower
in red brick
white collar
and green hat.
It is the sister of Sari Clock Tower
standing tall all by herself
independent and in mutiny.

No metal rattle
no howl of breaks
or urgency to break
no light to stop traffic
or life.
simply just no "NO!"
or "DO NOT!"

The road to St.Louis
stayed course
raining in my hat
and pockets of your raincoat.
wherever we go
it is raincloud
travelling with us.

In Union Station
We jump off the rain bridge
into City Garden.

Proud are the poles
of Gateway Arch
bending with eyes on the west
(and the east)

Gateway Arch up there
Above Ole Miss Sisipi River
looking at green pond
and thinking of hanging garden of Babel.
Confused and curious,
her tongue is as confused as her gaze.

Parade of erected Zigurats
always going round up
and digging
never bent for going down.

Arcade of rain.
Who wants to sing under a waterfall

In downtown
I got off Corolla
to meet Bob Cassilly ,a native son,and peers in City Museum ,b. 1997
with his 4-foot-wideslinkys and
76-foot-long No.2 Pencil
(now dead at 61 under his innovative artworks)
and The Sculpture garden

Not much willing now
to see Wheeling,W Va.
Storm brought me here.

Bringing me back with you
I raise a glass of rain

Gone with the wind
a gypsy rose
still sitting in shade of blue.

For a free carwash I drove 2000 miles.
Wasn't this done by machines
before sky took over?

I t was called:
"Civilized Invasion"
Once Flo however said.
I did not penetrate
civilized or in vasion
and still you felt in
A version in vain
if you will.
A silent presence
in a silent presence for all and none
a rule of
"Tout ou Rien"
unrully run.
So consensual
for the sakes of both parties.
That's how life goes.
No matter if years passed
or still

And still it rains so hard
in Southern Illinois.

This rose was abandonned and bent
I put a ring on her
Rose garden grew up.
O magic miracle of mirage.
Then her aura sprang  and squirted
her garden withered
I heard HICHKAS(nobdy)
singing in the dark:
"Good days will come
When we do not kill each other
Do not look bad upon each other
A day we are friends
And hug each other
Like in our school days..."and
Home away from home
my destiny is universe.
my Marion is marinated
in the rainy road rage.
Is she trying to unpoet a poet?!
now that
It rains so hard
in Southern Illinois

MARION,ILLINOIS. and on the road
MAY 21-22,2010

1 comment:

  1. This coming email called it:
    I never felt it that way.
    We never ,either!
    That was the way the guy you quoted,felt.
    And it could be right or just a vision,after all these years in abstinence.
    O the absent minded lovers of yesterdays!