Puppet X,7 Poem by Jerry Ratch

I had a friend once
Little weak flame
of a voice
No bigger than
an ordinary tulip
Pure cowboy

You see him in all the old photographs
(in his one dollar shirt
and his two dollar hat)

The most popular song
offended him so much
that he would tap his foot to it
He would tap his foot
and begin spitting out bitter,
imaginary pieces
of tobacco

“His reflections
are still in
the windows…”

He fell in love
with the Queen of Clubs
and he can't get back alive

Now he talks nonsense and gets away
with it

“He's got friends
in the 4th dimension…”

Enough believe it

I don't

(I never wanted to be President
anyway)

– A steepleful of dead people

– A churchful
of chairs

“One for every living member
of the surrounding
community”

A small crowd, enough ears
to listen

“Let us preach
and benumble...”

Soon I'd be able
to say that

As it is,
the mice are
sticking up the dead…

“After awhile I found
that I could rock
better, ” said Grandma

He watches them collapse
like things made of laughter

* *

I saw there
a sign that said:

No Smoking
No opium

What would start out a usual bird
would turn out to be
an eagle or a hawk

None of them sang anymore
They'd just eat…

And a storekeeper said:
'They're all dead here'

And when I looked
there weren't any cans on the shelves
Just skulls

We were turning around to leave
and he said:
'You'll be dead too...'

And in the neighboring town of
Virden, Illinois, passing through
one night, I saw a man
sitting in a gas station
intently watching the candy machine...

Tell me
What did his soul
look like
My friend's

– A pinched nerve in twilight

– A few scattered
bones on the moon

If that…

The glass is melting slowly
from his feet

'And once an ant, half red,
the back half
black,
tried speaking to me,

and kept looking behind it'

Hell

Kittens can spot
an obvious ghost

'I can see again, ' said the farmer
'I can see again, ' said the judge

And that's as big as nebulous
gets

I'd rather be your uncle
I'd rather sleep
alone

'This is ridiculous, '
said the goldfish
'What an outrage, '
thought the clam

Well, we all know
it is…

This believing in things

“caskets, cradles
delivery tables
scalpels, shears
and throats

caskets, cradles,
delivery tables,
scalpels,
shears,
and throats”

Passing opinions
from our bodies
Giving ants directions…

What is essential?

Flames are
no longer, tables, books,
thoughts about underwear

Eventually it all
passes
and the wind
is made up of varying
temperatures

and stillness
of one

Before you know it you die
Before anyone notices
you pick yourself up and keep going
Pretty soon you've even fooled yourself

* *

In this kind of evil,
small-watt light
sums of money are exchanged,
signs are given, nods, etc.
Contracts made to snuff out
candles…

'We're all here,
aren't we'

A small crowd
under the wallpaper
saying things
(while you sleep)
(while you sleep)
'Blue the Bunny'
while you two sleep
X Y Z
X Y Z
X Y Z
(pass it on)

Things written down
For you

'The weeds whispered their previous names'

What is there
In the usual wind

– The world is kind
– The world is cruel

And Johnny's a drummer
and drums for the King

'It's not necessarily your story
It's not necessarily their story'

And everywhere you go
that's what the clocks say:
Nobody in particular

And now the dead
spider hangs
on the underside of
the book

'Because I could change
the scenery'

And now
the dead spider
drifts slightly overhead
in what's left of
the blue
and the lightning

'Because I could change...'

And now the dead spider
is running the
world


'la de da... la de da...
Let Spider come over'

Dead Spider is
running the world

'Oh, oh'

Dead Spider
is running
the world