Full Moon

in dark houses in every town
what if repeats into a chant
and the lovesick put their things away
the luckless worry threadbare thoughts
another day has skidded by
everything seems an afterthought
the rhythm is all wrong tonight
in dark houses in every town
another day has skidded by
what if repeats into a chant
the luckless worry threadbare thoughts
and the lovesick put their things away

For A Friend In Mourning

When I heard that my friend’s kind heart
had split apart,
a reflection
was cast upon
the shadow of my own heart, and
I reached my hand
up to my chest
(age-old gesture)
and then I thought of fractured bones—
the broken ones
are the strongest.
Broke things mend best.

The First Lottery In Tennessee

Volatile Fortune is weighing a scale
laden with yearning (and luck for a few);
actual windfalls are going on sale.
Men in their uniforms pace in the night,
laden with yearning (and luck for a few).
Hardscrabble folks with a jackhammer’s ways,
men in their uniforms pace in the night.
Here’s to the prayer that the jackpot will pay.
Hardscrabble folks with a jackhammer’s ways
wait for the bets and the minutes to pass.
Here’s to the prayer that that the jackpot will pay.
Oh, but the clock is so fickle and slow.
Wait for the bets and the minutes to pass,
actual windfalls are going on sale.
Oh, but the clock is so fickle and slow.
Volatile Fortune is weighing a scale.

Here Begins the Book of the Tales of Circus Zimba

In April, when flowers should have nodded,
And farmer’s draft horses should have plodded
Through fields agreen with rows of growing grain,
The dust bowl came and blew it all away.
I was a writer for the local press.
The paper failed, and though I did my best
To track down work so I could earn my pay,
No luck. So I joined WPA
And that Summer I met up with the Fair
To interview the tribe who traveled there.
To faraway places (some known, some not)
We journeyed jolly — a motley lot.
America in the 1930’s
Was a place to embrace one’s destinies
So the 18 freaks who became my friends
Shared with this writer their lives and legends.
We left from Cheatham County, Tennessee,
to start life as one in the heart of Dixie.
I have your ear, so I will take my chance
To share the sideshow’s tales of happenstance,
And how the freaks and I are all akin. . . .
So, with a Human Blockhead, I begin.

The Original Human Blockhead’s Tale
for Melvin Burkhart

I. What I had

I lived inside that square of mat and ropes.
I was a kid. It was my life for a while.
Thought I had what it takes. I had big hopes,
had big dreams of the top of the pile.
Muscle, gloves, the fast fist inside—had it.
Legs that held my bob and weave—had those too.
Had a crunch punch like lickety-split
so in time my amateur days were through.
It was ready! set! go! for the pro ring—
bigger crowds, more money, and my big chance.
I sparred and trained and did everything
I could to get ready for the big dance.
Next I’ll say how it turned out I suppose.
It has to do with my magical nose.

II. The Cutman Was My Friend

In all, I had 6 professional bouts.
So that was my entire pro career.
Had a winning record—or thereabouts
(I like to keep that a little unclear!)
So back to my nose. It was busted. Bad.
The doctors took lots of pieces of bone
out of my nose. And they told me I had
to quit boxing—but I’d already known.
I made up a crazy vaudeville skit
that I clowned whenever they came to town.
Did a muscle act that was a big hit;
at the same time I could smile and frown.
So I decided to join the sideshow.
Thanks to boxing I had a new status quo.

III. The Anatomical Blunder

I joined the sideshow in 1930.
And I plan to be here for many years.
I’ve always been a ham. What you can see
onstage. There is the woman with 3 ears.
And Bill Durks, the man that has 2 noses.
I got him together with the woman
with alligator skin. I sent roses
for their wedding. Then there was the Dog Man
and a lot of other acts. I did 5
myself. The Human Skeleton for one.
It’s my nose that made them say Why? Alive?
on the sign outside though. That sure was fun.
I’ll tell you of my most famous of acts
and I’ll try to stick to all of the facts.

IV. Hammer and Nail

So you need a big 5-inch roofing nail
and an appropriately impressive
hammer. It’s got to be big too. You wail
on that nail—bang bang bang—you have to drive
it up your nostril! Did I mention that?
That’s how I became the Human Blockhead.
Had 2 wives and I fed my family fat.
It is like what the 3-legged man once said:
beats jobbery and robbery haha.
I don’t plan to retire ‘til 94,
then I will have fun being a grandpa.
I sure do like the sound of that encore.
I’ve made my life with a hammer and nail
and a busted nose that I do impale.