'Can you tell me where we're heading

Lincoln County Road or Armageddon’

‘Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground; and, as I was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in this place was; and how many, that had come even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed.’

(Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress)

the Terminal is where my flight begins

latterday son of the Pilgrim Fathers

bred in a cold puritanical land

a lazy Icarus I

take a lift

on metal bird

cross the Great Water

to the Other Side

inflight video called Coming Home

to roost perhaps

no I am not a Vietnam Veteran

but yes I guess I still carry some scars

head in the thunder-clouds

giddy as god

I’ve left my island far behind

look down on a continent

and think

Whitman you should be living at this hour

***

first stop Chicago

Chicago Chicago

skyscraper Babel

quick hop to Texas

Amarillo as in the song

this is the place they assemble the warheads

then I get driven

jaggedly jet-lagged

into next state

border roadsign bears the legend

Land of Enchantment

bienvenidos

I’m enchanted mam I’m sure

***

this is an Indian Summer in Fall

between the New World and Old Mexico

Yucca grows tall in the dusty small town

sand on the sidewalk here

the desert’s near

sprinklers on the burnt-out lawns

air-conditioned everywhere inside

curfew at noon

amid the blaze

I play blind Samson

in dark glasses

a mad dog

or an Englishman abroad

ignore the Don’t Walk sign

and walk

to get almighty dollar$ from the drive-in bank

rednecks yell from a pick-up truck

rowdy rodeo and cowboy hats

why don’t I slay some philistines

I could but for this convict crewcut

fallout shelter in the best hotel

hell-hole hideout

case the house falls down

high noon now

do not forsake me

***

Model T Ford at the County Fair

Exhibit A in the trial of the century

that’s how we got to here from there

by Cadillac and Chevrolet

now the auto’s automatic

going flat-out to be upwardly mobile

today’s hard drive

to stay alive

move with the times

chase that mirage

in the heat haze

receding water on the road

on our left the grave of Billy the Kid

killer outlaw on the run

shot by sheriff

just desert

and

the Mesa

miles glide swiftly

in this movie

viewed thru the wound-down window’s frame

a natural history documentary

suddenly it’s wild

cartoon

Road Runner Road Runner

clown of the West

dicing with death between the wheels

at speed

why did it

why did it cross the road

then the well-worn song on the soundtrack

Route 66

a long rough ride

over Indian bones

clickety-click

Route 66

freeway to progress

collapsing

subsiding back

into honey-combed ground

savages warned

White Man knew better

we get our kicks

***

stay one night in a neon motel

at Santa Rosa

anywhere else would be much the same

standard fittings

Gideon’s Bible and holy screen

TV now the world religion

millions in communion

worship surface images

turn on tune in

for culture shock

not Dallas but the Mayor of Casterbridge

Farfrae doing a Scottish jig

Farfrae Farfrae far frae hame

Laurel and Hardy is predictable

Doubting Thomas with the laurels

gives pause for thought

there must have been Scots settlers once

notice the place names on the map

Melrose McAlister McIntosh

***

here at last the real McCoy

or simulacrum of the same

with six pack and tobacco

sit back enjoy the show

the world of sport

the killing game

big fight beamed live

those who are about to die

salute this flag

or colored rag

doctor I see stars and stripes

in front of my eyes

black man sings

Land of the Free

at a price

some can’t afford

zap that remote

it’s your choice of channels

this is a Democracy

whose side are you on

a word from our sponsors

vote for the good guys

that means US

we stock the latest weapons

great special F/X

for power at your fingertips

zap that remote

you’re in consumer heaven

we give you all this rope

57 varieties

sitcom or soap

whatever we can sell

from televangelic

to bulletins from hell

so it’s only chewing gum

so loses its flavor

you still go on chewing

it won’t make you fat

we could feed the starving millions

with more of that

seeing is believing

would we tell you any lies

what’s the difference

between news and adverts

the same sincere

insistent voice

puts viewers wise

when you’ve said Budweiser

you’ve said it all

***

O culinary Americana

the menu’s cornucopian

my cup of coffee runneth over

I’m new-baptised in Coca Cola

and this is verily the Promised Land

that flows with malted milk and money

wake in the morning and it’s sunny-side up

pumpkin or apple pie-in-the-sky

here’s a leaning tower of pizzas

there’s McDonald’s duck with french fries

put your snout in the trough

if you’re hungry mister

***

Sangre de Christos

mountains to climb

bridge over the Rio Grande

guidebook in hand

Taos way

in Lawrence’s footsteps

Hopi dancers circle squares

amusing tourists

the Indians have their reservations

to prove I’ve been there

send a postcard

picture of the old Pueblo

rockhard their abode’s adobe

cornbread baking in an outdoor oven

fossils and artefacts in museums

turquoise trinkets from the natives

follow the conquistadores

railroad track to Santa Fe

mission church with spiral staircase

steps of the Son

ascending heavenwards

declared a miracle of intricate construction

no crucial nails to fix the dovetailed joints

made by a fair-haired carpenter

stranger who simply disappeared

maybe an angel in disguise

hallucinations of the heat

Hispanic blood in the melting pot

single señorita in a crowded piazza

flamenco man with blue guitar

I take a sneaky snapshot

no better than the rest

***

of course they came from Spain

and now northwards

nightly  to infiltrate

a fatal flawed imperial frontier

there are theories about migration

from Asia and even Outer Space

they’ve been around

a long time here

eleven thousand years or so

Paleoindians

the oldest tribe

their stone-age knives

obsidian

the cutting edge

one molecule

stripped mammoth skin

it’s Clovis Man

you too can be

like some old hippy in clover

at the local Head Shop browsing

its skins its pipes its

homegrow magic mushroom kits

a shaman’s garden

aimed at Eden

***

to me the landscape’s alien

tho I don’t see thru Martian eyes

cattle cottonfield and peanut country

windmills and artesian wells

solar collectors

a host of golden

wild sunflowers

brighten the air

the traveller’s journey isn’t yet done

deep water takes me by surprise

oasis lake

its rainbow colors in an oil-black mirror

my reflection and the sky’s

out in the boondocks

beware of snakes

***

drive off

drive on

drive into sundown

some enchanted evening

a lucky strike of Acapulco gold

under the big round harvest moon

stoned as any student

I stagger to the campus gig

live onstage a Latin band

plays the universal language

music

electric

pulsing light

like science fiction

flying saucer frisbees soar

above the crowd

the stars are singing

crickets click at sultry midnight

Buddy Holly still raves on

cut his tracks in wax at Clovis

killed in a plane crash

flew too close to the blazing sun

I whistle in the dark

a jolly tune

more fear than loathing

more hope than fear

better to travel hopefully

lost alone in downtown nowhere

ask a friendly cop with gun

rush to catch last greyhound bus

transported onwards as I sleep

heap more travelling ahead

***

one day the sun rose twice in the east

a little east of Radium Springs

east of the town of Truth or Consequences

regular guy

worked at White Sands

Missile Range

twenty one years

died of cancer

flew too high

read it in the mourning paper

Navajo ghosts haunt Alamogordo

birthplace of nightmares

Jornado del Muerto

a very hot spot

ground zero

Trinity site

the Holy Spirit in a tongue of flame

turned sand to glass

the darkest hour

5:29:45 a.m.

mine eyes have seen the glory

of the blinding bright white light

then spoke the Thunder

shatterer of worlds

all that before breakfast

have a nice day

***

O W.A.S.P. there is thy sting

you who were born again

believe in fairy tales

American Dream

Amen

come Columbus Day

the big parade

and then Thanksgiving

***

bought the perfect souvenir

a can of that Budweisser beer

at the Customs I shall swear

I have nothing to declare

***

ENVOY

the desert Resurrection plant

rehydrates in English rain

returning East what seemed so dead

starts to come alive again

(This minimally-packaged, economical format is designed to make new work available to the public in a decentralised, small-scale way, bypassing the exclusivity of establishment commercial publishers.)

published by

go to WHERE HAVE ALL THE FLOWERS GONE?