N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 0 6
From The Book of Ololon
Olonon Visits Fenced-Off American Borders
Robed in all things waiting to be said,
Surrounded by orange and red nasturtiums
Blooming the desert, she walks
More lonesome than executive privilege,
Covered with a body armor
Of impenetrable distresses
At once romantic and egalitarian.
Hers isn’t anything like “the soft soul of
Bleeding slot machine magic people.
These secrets, they’re not hers to keep.
All she ever wanted was Love’s multiples,
Its live gang convicts, carrying the news
Each shall annihilate the self
For the good of others.
Her every move made perfect sense to me,
Radiated a snowy white telepathy
blues and gospel. Texas
Up close to her, I had to start believing
In a different set of possibilities,
Even the powerlessness I felt
Would have to be thrown away.
Ololon Visits The Flag Draped Coffins
Drunken bikers, people reading
Pieces of paper thinking they
Are looking into my heart,
Satan’s just another word for
The sickness of intolerance.
The first rule they learn is
The long note, the one
After the end of a piece.
She stands as they dismount
From their planes, lying in wait
In the great grey warehouse of eternity,
Well known by a lot of performers
Still working the old circuit
In ghostly screens of speed
Where whatever happened
To them, their daring and sad
Exit march to the blue of tombs,
It is all slightly alien, the bullets
That went through them,
The never see them no more.
Ololon Visits The Cabinet
If everybody is so important
To the war, why is
Everyone so disposable?
The commandant warns the Secret Service
Against becoming indifferent
To loss of life. Those were
Political, not aesthetic, boos.
The idea that the queen
Was a teenager on a horse farm,
That the FBI would come up empty,
Fearless judges rolled up in carpets
And thrown into volcanoes,
That with one push of a button
The country would come to a halt,
Dubious tip blest the endless blasts
Of the perturbed mad raging,
Its hair slicked back
With rivets of nets,
Fathomless voids, remnant
Stars splitting apart, confining
The obscure separation.
Truth is hid in the soul
Of male-female and female-male
As a collection of sharp Spanish knives
Concealed within an unfolding telescope kitchen oven.
The FBI can raid the House of Congress
But it cannot invade virtuosity, neither
Self-revealing nor programmatic
In any way. Garrisoned,
We were all knocked stupid,
Expelled from the system,
The huge and crazy cast
As rare as a “watershed election.”
Everybody was embarrassed
Except the Heavy Hand of the Law
That slapped subpoenas on
All the socioeconomic rejects
In a hooka of national nightmares,
Dismissed as the art of damage control,
Even as the cannibals devouring the capital
Were stunned by the indictment––
Its reading more like archeology.
Olonon Visits Nuclear Dread
Down through the imaginary eons
Filled with unknown soldiers vanished in mud,
Death appears more powerful than teen star headsets,
More gloomy than enlightened people and drunks,
Children whose names are added
To the National Registry of Sex Offenders
And those who believe God speaks through them.
Because we cherish opinion and pain,
Sometimes we just want to annihilate everything,
But male is already female, female is already male.
You always sit in sunlight.
Weeds grow out of drainpipes.
The worst thing to do is to hold back
Your power to cut down someone else’s strength.
Chair on a rooftop reaching into the unseen,
Smell of rugs in storefronts converted to mosques,
I do not even have to remember you among these walls
Where the accumulation of what is now resides.
Isn’t all this a miracle, more packed than Dostoevsky’s
Last notebook, a girl unextinguished by love,
Aloft, supernumerous .
Ololon Visits These Waves Arousable To Fury
We melt, we disappear
In a new orchestra of rising seas,
It’s strings of sea grass unentwined
And scarlet trumpet flowers laced with mercury.
Acrobats of the never contented will,
We are the hearse of loss inscribed in tears’
Green metallic silk.
What lies in wait are mountains, rivers,
Hells and heavens entirely shattered.
The more you look up, the higher it is.
The more you bore down, the deeper it goes.
You wonder how people so united by ideals
Could be tricked en masse by every state
Of mind opposed by another.
Anyone can overturn the polestar,
Flip the axis of earth like a toothpick in the mouth.
When laughter ends, who knows where it’s gone?
If you know how to hold the roar of the surf,
What does it matter that you’ve arrived
At ancient or future shores?
The oceans are already upon you.
Ololon Visits Thug Love
The simplicities were scattered.
They would not be returning any time soon,
Only the complexities of human beings thrown off course
On the immortal staircase of all those that died
And never were resurrected,
Just slightly bent red streaks
In an all-black painting.
She resembled nothing else
Anybody around here had ever seen,
Not the strip clubs of innocence
Or the long sermons of intimidation,
The entrails of atrocity, the centuries of murder.
On her arm was a tattoo
Of the entire universe,
More luminous and visionary than
Stardom at early age
And what shoes were worn at the funeral
And the networks we now take for granted
In the uninhabited vocabularies
The rest of the gold suited bombers
Refer to as “Death to
Ololon Visits Lobster Gal
By transmitting wisdom forms and
The practice of living under one roof earth,
You entered a period of open rebellion,
Slipped through the cables, turned off the switches,
Dimmed the arcade of houselights for a
White House basement mess production of Waiting for Godot
Starring the President and Vice President.
Everything was fair game.
There were no more sacred cows.
Vulnerability was the mark of the foolish.
Trusting the government to put things in perspective
Was like trying to take a Cottonmouth to bed.
They plundered the country until the only thing left
Was the comfort they felt that everybody was doomed.
Dirty fingers, dirty pies, it was all there––
The cards were transparent, they were betting big.
If you got ripped-off, at least they had the decency
To do so right in front of your face.
The alarms lit up the switchboard down at Central Security.
By the time their tans had faded
They were carried out in plastic bags.
Ololon Visits Leverage Neutralized
Untraceable viruses, nationality of no importance,
All this traffic of bodies
Going every which way.
There were major malfunctions.
The Americans were getting sloppy.
They thought they were working
For the right people.
They were all in a loop that made no difference to me.
Never the same two people, requiring only as little of us
As was left to give.
You want everyone to think you’re a woman that pisses ice,
But you’re soft, you’re sensitive, you love, you care.
They wanted you to see it their way.
This was their major malfunction.
It infected almost everything
Unlucky enough to come in contact with it.
Sometimes a money counter got shot in the head.
Sometimes it was a gramophone IED playing old 78’s.
Nothing’s worth a life, but that’s the name of the game.
You think you’re like them, but you’re not.
I’m a little like them, only worse.
Ololon Visits The Sadness Of Children
The indecency of weeping children, alone––
Their “parents” as empty of intimacy
As once they’d felt true love––
Is like rain falling into a little red cup.
A child tosses a handful of rose petals into the air.
They land upon a teacher’s head.
The two of them bow to one another.
There is a Tibetan story
About the blue and white lion
And the rabbit that tricked them both into a well.
A child uses sadness like a daredevil.
You get the feeling heaven’s on her side.
Why is there so much unhappiness in the world?
Weeping, a child inherits the earth.
So fierce is the sadness of a child, moreso than
All the fireworks on the Fourth of July going in reverse.
All you can do sometimes is weep along,
Caught in that spiritual asylum, at the farthest end of the hall.
Yet sadness is a part of everything.
It’s the jewels God gathers
To light the silence of outer space.