Suicide Four empty cans of lye rolled off the bed; The fat and lonely man first tried to pray. Within an hour, of course, the man was dead; At last he'd solved his problems, in a way. -Spring, 1964- The Kitten Slung encased in outworn net, the kitten squirms, bewildered yet. Dusty mirror could make it see the shape it was condemned to be. He teaches how to fall! He slices through the pall! He pierces with his call! He drops it to the sea. The surface changes to above. This is a callous kind of love. Lungs glow and heart breaks. The kitten dreams of birds and snakes. Something bursts in deeper parts: a catfish blinks before it starts. -December, 1967- 8 Dog beater! Meat eater! Cat beater! Knife wielder! -Summer, 1969- Twenty-six and two thirds Coming into focus: eternal recurrence, a thought too abysmal to give reassurance. My life must be an open grid upon which I wander, ego and id. Grad school was a rocky trip. Chess has made my brain more hip. From now on I have a fixed stance: I am a man who wants existence. Still too banal is my Heaven. Next I will be twenty-seven. -August 26, 1971- Untitled The broken-backed horse welcomed the leather saddle. Of course it knew that the pitch-pipe was discordant. It felt good. That's why it worried little. Two bronze green hooks supported strong straps. Someone had mismatched the stirrups, and there was no end of approximation. Yet it felt alright, to canter around the paddock. Starlings made their sound. No one enjoyed it. -31 March, 1973- Pike's Peak Four vaulting pyramids were seen north - south - east - west the mountains sighed "He is finished," they said. -20 April, 1974- X-ray X-ray on a luckless day, to pre-technique I kneel and say, a man is not oblique to what would see his gut and promise that as he lives on somewhat longer, what doesn't burn him makes him stronger. -Winter, 1975- Quasar So far, far from the happy violet undulation that you called quasar, far from the voices and far from faces faces of friends, I pass my improbable time. My body cries out - it is behind me though. How do I turn to club the foe? How do you do? This world is strange to me, is it to you, who wonder what I am thinking, but buzz my eardrums when I say so crazy lonely sad. If time were light and words just sounds, this recurrent flight away would be like the doe is, stag on sticks. Numerous for once numberless I would pray to be resuscitated from this numbness. -29 April, 1975- Suggestion Box a political poem Six sides five unslotted, a cardboard drawer where gravity goes, on Mondays was emptied, on Fridays was closed. Again, again, line staff had insisted, their "ought" should be meshed in along with their "is," since leaders aren't owners, though some have imposed it. One note of humor had failed to bring laughs: a photog of Bozo stuck up from the cracks. The mid-western troubles had been troublesome, and no one knew what to do about them, so we quietly settled on, oval approach. Although this seemed reasonable enough, it wasn't novel, new, solid, winning, or pleasant. Knowledge can be re-organized, sure, if numbers weren't symbols, world without cure, if sentences didn't have to be browsed. That narrowing rakish laughter quiets to "whir," while entire staff emerges unslotted. -21 October, 1975 Recurrence, Solipsism and Domination Rendition just an oval, pride's demand, yet justice is a concept, home-made bleach, to dab the too bright branches of mathematics' stand, the on and off of time, the un-Pacific beach. Because the span, reviewed, was thought to hold, it held, sort of, seemed natural, profane, and only when the public, being polled, said it was old, did it begin to wane. The members of the species make their trades, this linked gathering will not keep still, providing tree and arch and leaf, charades prove hardier yet than decimal's till. Upon this table, square, court of what I see, I don't, you know, pretend, this all is new, but competition's contradiction, true to me, is repetitious, despite its see-you-through. Then flat brand new images cross the air, the comrades rise demanding revived grace, like men on the moon who float on air, where trajectory turned touch to force to space. Rendition just an oval, pride's demand, yet justice is a concept, home-made bleach, to dab the too bright branches of mathematics' stand, the on and off of time, the un-Pacific beach. -31 October, 1975- Epicurus' Question The ship of breath's machinery Is nice to follow: one can break From his obedience, buy three When owning two led past the lake. But only if the System deals His benefits to wanting tongues Without restraint, embarrassed squeals, Should mind deny collapsing rungs. -15 December, 1975- Rough-Eyed Unfriendly whispers cannot squeak their bile Toward those disliking yet refusing hate. Accounts at dusk evolved from merrier state, Now liberty has chosen grease on tile. So vegetarian habits rope the wild Defender of my wish to break its back. The noble trash promoted to the rack, Recurrence is as consolation styled. The structured metaphors of science lead Away from modern city's half-tied knots, Give micro-meaning to each even-odd. But unpristine develops every deed. Our resolutions tend to clash in spots. The string is tangled softly on the rod. -18 December, 1975- Motorcycle There was a room when I was eighteen, not really A room because it was exposed to the airy public, But a waterfall poured down next to some light stairs, And the chairs too were restful slabs. Across from those stairs was a very wide area, Somewhat less shaded for refreshments, And the world of the country club extended, To the modern locker room or the mysterious stables. So I say this to my poverty's agents, Since turning thirty did not send me off: If the shape I am building is destined for hanging, Just seat me back there in that light restful room. -27 December, 1975- Motorscooter The cog is dunked, then put back. Soon risky tightening is submerged in oil. Right so-called bubble, that separate fact, Goes on. Pneumatics, try to roll. Holy cow, this is a lot of fun. I have never been quite here before. These pastel wires are well-crammed, Internally. Stoic, hear the choir. -27 December, 1975- Overdue Capricorn Do not win meal's use truce again amongst The ridge's tilting. Much it does betide At lilting corner, duel on the stuffed Edge. Also poor mind, mindful and retailed, Lets theory go against title's complaint. And when, over-understanding (replete Against own) the side obeys and ends the Day with its output viz viz his reading, Why then most rules be algorithms like Do not shut the jamb. The cause of the case Of the whirling outrigger, acoustic (Absorption of leftover noise) surfeit (Which seemed like that to some), did fail to touch Flinty porous roof rods, beams beneath much. -11 January, 1976- Smokey Elastic My friend from prep school sent a cache: A box from pigments, for a latch An office-like elastic band. The latter grasps the corners and Diagonals slid parallel Cross lid and crease to pedestal. The thing is somewhat bright and green. It enters time again: is seen. I knew this selfsame prop somewhere Else. Someone else enjoyed it here. No problem with all this except The shoddy fumes maybe have kept A few professors back from quick Escape from smokey elastic. Imagine please some dry ice cooled By wettest water floating jeweled. The ozone clouds it generates Do satisfy whoever waits. Instead of stretchy lingerie, Play on the spring at torque of pi. Its elasticity wears out At rate that iron yields basalt. Such torsion raw and billows pure Seem like the steak before the cure. However: when yourself is what Has corners grasped, has tightened gut, One's wish is then for fantastic Excuse & smokey elastic. -15 January, 1976- Superstition Tradition wrong, then superstition spoils The show the cautious play, and anger boils Within the kettle of adaptive will, And puppets break their strings, and then are still. A chain of empty lessons, odd taboos, Are learned and followed, not unlike a goose. Perhaps they come on radio, in dreams, Or from the powerful, by means of hints. Here logic is the crux: more than the scare, To try both ways might be itself to err. "So what of that!" I heard the free man shout. I'm on his side, as were the puppets too. But sometimes we're outvoted by those who Would win, stay in, or carefully dance out. -24 February, 1976- Loneliness And solitude, if no one is looking, Is loneliness, or interest, or dream. The loners in rooms, more like lambs than wolves, Deepen, and harden, and envy the team. Each one was so cute as a pliant tot that someone like it liked it. There began Its set of choices: blind steamships alone On garbled lines, again circling man. One's image of the culprits, mirror laws, Is everywhere for all a chronic mess. Some say to set a goal, some say act straight, Or blame, or lead and follow worthiness. And it won't do, or else it would have done, For loneliness to turn its opposite. The change must be external, or time laughs At mule that would be horse, despite its writ. -21 March, 1976- Sonnet Along the wires the signals sprint and play. From woofers and from tweeters emanate Bassoons of lions, and the bright flutes say Their wings are quicker than the air's own rate. Beneath the sky the people wonder what? I think they wonder where to find the key Unlocking thoughts or car, to take the mutt Down for its weekly walking at the sea. Then footprints make their footprints unawares. But week end mind retains the numerous Sweet jolts of daily work, and how it fares Depends on whether life stays luminous. Zoo creatures hear the static and they flee, Through labyrinth of shapes resembling greed. -9 April, 1976- Examine the Circle The season poured its syrup of sand drift on doors done down by irritable air, refusing releasing in silent shift of attitude to enmity from care. Stamp now the rude the just alike pass through to high parks and accurate talks or threats, ignoring backward claims a lie we knew that fed the hungry and eased our regrets. -21 September, 1979- Tiny Reason Before we start, elsewhere have I seen you harden, soft, our righteous fall of faces. No matter: the grass is blue between Half Dome and El Cap. -4 October, 1979- Thirty-five and a Half My fury, my rage, my loathing, my disgust - Give me leverage to break the terms on your freeways, in sidewalk conversations. Muse enjoy yourself in past productions. I have no wish to entertain armies of masses in the air, twigs forming on sand. Yet stale it all corrodes no cool no damp, and I'll have wanted to avert with call the line that never heard my grievous hammer. -26 June, 1981- I Went I went to Stanford. Then I went to Palo Alto. And then I went to Washington, D. C. Then I went to San Francisco. And then I went to Palo Alto. Then I went to San Francisco... And then I went to Washington, D. C. Then I went to San Francisco. And then I went to Pittsburgh. Then I went to Washington, D. C. And then I went to San Francisco. Then I went to Oakland. And then I went to San Francisco. Then I went to Washington, D. C. And then I went to Pittsburgh. Then I went to San Francisco. Then I went to Rock Springs. -20 February, 1983- Fireball Forty years after the shock in Japan conceived my generation in the womb, a second blast sends me sprawling again, the firing vaporizing all my dream. The Japanese, defeated as the slaves, cried uncle to the awesome master race, whose bourgeois supervisors now have ways of flinging striving workers from their space. A few shadows found in the empty town were memories soon scuffed out by the great, like ruthless injustice subtly disowned, images of friends who had to retreat. -6 August, 1985- Plane Cannot Land On a green granite mountain of Japan, a Boeing jumbo has disgorged its trust. For half an hour a hero businessman wrote kin good-bye...cold air, uneven thrust. Hundreds buy seats for this captive screening. The crew takes time to provide instruction --the sky has mercy on planes careening-- in how a pillow can blunt destruction. We could not land: control was indirect. With engines working we lost altitude and sought the mild Pacific for the wreck, until we all recalled how things still stood. -21 August, 1985- Epic J. Doug Ohmans is my family name. In '85 I've no clue to the game, but my flesh hangs easily on my frame and, having some time, it's time for some fame. I live in small town Rock Springs, Wyoming, and every day I see six or eight friends. People here don't know Schiller from Schelling, yet near White Mountain my soul tends to mend. One day I wandered up the street two blocks, and Rock Springs offered me its next surprise: in four directions there surged up high rocks, and to this town's detractors, four replies. I shall reach 40 hardly having done a job for long enough to justify the claim that I'm a leading, special one, and so I visit sagebrush as a try. In Pittsburgh, San Francisco, Washington, a job would end, the linked list point to nil. So I'd buy onto Greyhound and be gone, but cities failed despite my acts of will. The only thing I've ever really done and plan to do, the default being fine, is to read serious books by the ton, so to write and speak I won't be lying. Chess got me through a decade of seasons. I primed on mid-games for the Institute, strolled down Market Street, one of the free ones, and tried out my cube for man to refute. There's also been myriad joints of grass. It has a pungent, selfish quality. Your verbal product will knock out your boss, but you will fit into reality. I've never wished to earn to procreate. That price is high to maintain difference. A woman's jaw-line is a fine delight, but not my fall to total helplessness. The best gift my two parents gave to me was, they never mentioned at the table that I should choose courses to make money. I'd just be the best, so went the fable. Thirteen-year old is on a bareback horse. Run round Dad in the center of corral. The horse is bitless, heaves the guy with force, so they hold his jaw to the hospital. At twice 13 we felt it time to go, already having leapt birdsong fences, to Canada, to New York state and home. I met the broke poor, in many phases. A torn old dollar buys a fresh new thing. This alone is our nation's valid pride. Yet somewhere--I forget--the cut still stings. The edge and heart of empire are denied. At 39 doc's blade carved the weak bulge. The day the bill was given, bosses hit. But, by then the volunteer could indulge in travel's mornings, decades at a stint. By day my jobs have often disappeared. I'm sorry, but: it's still the dreams at night which speak of an America now geared to ferret dissidents and teach them fright. -14 September, 1985- 45 Years Old It was the dawn of the 20th century. My grandfather, John Ohmans, was a young man. In 1919 ended the Great War in Europe. My father was born. Ten years later the stock market crashed and the Depression began. Another ten years saw the start of W.W.II. As it ended in 1945, I was born. Zoom to 1990 on the same day, and from here, make the way forward in great detail. -26 December, 1990- Evacuate Wyoming Occasionally peeing day or night, like filling and dumping a fine pitcher, one never gives even a passing thought to dripping drops down lip of catheter. You do not find them forming one by one: they squirt and dribble forth unceasingly. Unbidden the droplets flash down the tube - more are being towel-wrung faithfully. So scratch a dry scratch in cold abstraction. Launch it from a bed of warm commotion. -2 September, 1999- Average Two years after brachytherapy, PSA was way too high. It was the 21st of December. Everyone was getting desperate. Then thanks to selenium, the measurement decreased. That Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Days felt a little longer. It makes me want to jump into a well-conceived terminus. The good news is noted around Xmas. By Easter even the average must turn. -24 December, 2004- Partner "O Doug, this is so awful, i am suddenly leaving you and everything turned out so badly, good-bye, good-bye." A rose in a bowl appeared, brought from a bar. -26 May, 2008- Ex Communique Charles and Margot were right: liberals will circle wagons, turn their backs on you. Yet the bourgeois nature turns windmill screws, their case well-made in copious scribbles. Midges are hopping in the shaded sun, midnight rabbit's nibbling ivy and palm. -26 May, 2010- Made in Pueblo In Concepcion I threw the key unlocking lock and door of time away while on marina toy. Georgetown is not really ivy nor Stanford inside the City, nor Lake Pueblo Internet-wired. Marinajean opened my life, stalemated then by Goodnight's wife. -26 July, 2010- Goodbye to Cable My demands are slight, can fit on a wire --who needs a monstrous cable in their house-- yet for a permanent record of why we canceled Comcast, I hereby say this: The price of the connection plus TV which was free was 28 green dollars, minus free basic, unbundled, you see, makes 38, despite our loud hollers. O parent corporation you cannot halve the supply, half again the rot. -23 December, 2010- Pure Mentality Midge loves Concha: from her lofty always exceptional viewpoint she loves Concepcion's purity, intuition, unblown psyche. Concha loves Midge: overwhelmed by her extra-planetary skills, Madelyn's mentality like a servant whose master is still. -10 May, 2011- Pueblo Underground At Judy's former age, with Ib Midge was never seen in the crib: Yet I would give her everything, but I love Concha's diamond ring. This side-by-side forever cleared up something lately Ibsen feared: that he might be forgotten dressed in his plaid and corduroy best. And Charlie's angel adds some punch: our last meal was a Kesey lunch. We shook hands, greeting and ending, nothing much was left still pending. -6 October, 2011- Amazing Grace Line The year Concepcion was born, 1955 my father assembled 20 bags upon New York City's famous Pier Four. We sloshed at night in tiny pool, a light beam from salty porthole. The Southern Sky gave permanence to roiling sea beyond the rail. Our ship did roll, and in suspense, that cube of water leapt its fence. -6 January, 2013- Man Bites Pig When Levi Frasier filmed brutality, the police deleted his video. But Mayra was saved from legality by bravery and Levi's tech credo. Eased out from ownership of the password, one could predict the scandal of "Our Believes." But the shimmering image of the past was kept, a hot link, and the squeezer squeezed. It is good that pig bites man was reversed. Despite the spite, the damage is the worst. -4 December, 2014- The Basel Crossing In 1875 Herr professor Nietzsche would cross the Rhine from east to west on his way to buy grapes at the market or lecture in Old University Basel. A strong cable had been strung forever over the river, with a rowboat on a pulley, and the current from the south-east is as steady as a Lake Pueblo wind. The boatman locked the rudder wing and Doug set out by windsail for the northern shore. Arriving, he returned using the same current, instead of surfing downwind without future. -9 August, 2016- The N-1 Cove Frank and Kimberlie and their motorboat launched Saturday from the South Marina. It got chilly at the North Marina so I and Ivy both put on our coats. Driving back approaching Lake Pueblo dam at N-1 Cove a fishing spot we saw now somewhat near that sucking cement wall a boat too near yet not in any jam. I read the news: they disappeared instead. It did not tell that Hubble's universe had paused to hope that something imperfect could be corrected: the unexpected. -22 December, 2016- Eternally Yours I am surrounded by women, in Pueblo West - The place I chose--that day with Mary Wallace-- Was Swallows # R6 SE01. Her daughter in the distant corner is no liberal: Nothing we can ever do about that. However, I keep the soldiers at bay. Lying in the truth with my head facing west, Ohmans' wife Concepcion is on his left At Swallows # R6 NE20. Concha felt surrounded by "gueros" So her sister Marina, economist's inlaw Was granted Swallows # R6 NE19. As the future neighborhood filled in... Angelina Blasi took her place in Mexico Or at # R6 SE02 with me on her left. The only heaven for Swallows row six Is R5 not for sale as Colorado land: Midge would be overhead at # R5 SE01. Ivy's to her right, and Judy on the left. Ib is being squeezed between tal and mal, ever since he bought the farm in Wyoming. -16 September, 2018- Criminal Justice On a recent evening in American Amerika the world built by our fathers failed for a third time. It had failed the musician formerly known as Talmage when his Pueblo Mesa fantasies became as costly as the Sheriff's fishing expedition: 26 years across the sea, or God strike me dead. It is failing Pablo, in captivity since the December fire at his bedroom in my rental, and charged, though it was electrical, with arson, the crime for which one can be blamed if and when one trashes his little sister's smartphone. Tonight in 2019 the world our fathers built fails to deliver the justice of the universe. Missionaries picket the East side at night to bring prostitutes to Jesus. I'd told Juan --an alias, his name is Adul--he would be better off in Chihuahua with regular visits from his four children, than risking another deportation now involving accursed jail time. My only intimate the bail bondswoman says that Abdul (my friend and renter, the roofer) in prison tonite, might, due to the chaos get personal recognizance instead of crucifixion. -24 May, 2019- Geezer's Dilemma Heading for the last round-up, Charles Goodnight found a new Molly his own age we assume. "A domino which is a long way along the line won't fall over for a long time." The onlooker had met that molly's son one half of Goodnight's century ago. He used his head to easily figure that Domino is a contemporary. -2 July, 2019- Ocho Mujeres Marina aunque casada, su hombre fuera mientras sola con hijos. ademas cunada. Asi que Concha Ohmans es y ha sido mi esposa, gracias a Dios y los anos. Otro lado es Angelina Blasi-Ohmans: debe estar en cima de mi pero se fue. En cima nuevamente la viuda Vivian, mujer que es la puerta al siglo veinte. Se me queda otra cunada, la de Ange, pero Maricela pertenece a Julio. Tocandome por una esquina Ivy... nadie nunca ha tenido mejor amiga. Hija menor de Judy no te he ovidado, ni tampoco mama de Jean en otra esquina. -14 July, 2021-