A Poem by Smokey Farris

Arbuckle Wilderness
by Smokey Farris

It’s time to buy a truck.
Awaken to a new vehicle.
It’s likened to a wide awake
Nightmare when edgy
And arbuckled into laundering
Your blood from bottomless socks.

The wagon overturned and
A battery of heads rolled down
The eternal cliffs of Ozarks.
Shade given so commonly by
the mirror like moon.
Is taken away
as the Nuclear warheads,
As illustrated on dayglow
Concert posters.

Unfurled curls of southern smoke,
Draft upwards and
Obscure the clansmen.
Who above the dreamlike
Stage of our fair city,
Hurl burning cans of oil,
And delivering telegrams
Of pure hate.

Bottles of booze are lowered
Down the slopes
Into arcades and onto welcome mats.
Memories of almost buying Cocktail
At blockbuster suddenly outweigh
a distant heiress bearing her breasts.

My past life comes in handy sometimes.
I get washed out in a hailstorm.
Get punctured a hundred and fifty times.
Get buried before the light goes out
And count pea harvests
And watch owls
Swoop low upon the earth.
Until time becomes meaningless,
Existence futile
Until I combust into
Precious gold dust,
And sweep my self up
Into a neat little pile of protons.

Smokey Farris runs an engraving shop in Walla Walla, WA. http://farrisengraving.com/

A Poem from Smokey Farris

Another 2-d Christmas
by Smokey Farris

Fiesta frisbee legs running a gun.
Raspberry look a little giggle and a little tongue pulling in the sweet
Jungle gym girl, jungle jim standing up on the bars, jungle gym chasing
Rocko’s gang,
hey baby you remember this one.

It was a spiral of metal mathematical bars,
must have been our kid attraction,
the dome
pentagon top,
triangle sides,
reaching off the great earth and the huge playground,
with sparse attractions.
Most of the space was vacant and earth.
Jumping high above the scotch 79 soccer field
with up turned mesh chest shirts behind the head.
Blake Edwards.
Blake red and white windbreaker,
Dreamed of christmas UFO nights with blue parades of blue snowmen
and nearly two-d christmas lights
and the magic was fading from the evil yard.
It was disney land alight but it was alien,
it was prismatic.

It was on my street,
and before on the white and yellow pink day on the driveway crest
I saw a gold governing movement,
a great glittering gold tray or sleigh craft, a flat disk,
with an unforeseeable army,
There he was, the burger king,
with his scepter and crown,
blank fiberglass stare,
and all the spirit of a cartoon god.