Joe Mulligan Geologically Speaking Maybe I'm a stone Smaller than so many things One that rolled off a mountain Or maybe I'm a mountain Throwing stones off my shoulders But the truth is- I'm not either The stone, or the mountain But the difference between the two The moon is high, above the mountain And someone says; "it's 250,000 miles away" I guess to someone, that's pretty far Poem for the Lunch-counter Servers it's about eleven o-clock on a Wednesday, they'll be here soon and move through the line slow, like bad drivers in a traffic jam I'm here to serve you man would you like carrots? mashed potatoes? let me help you man you like dressing> we got three kinds French, Italian, Poppy seed. They're over at the salad bar what's that? no man, not that way- see the sign over there? the one that says; "SALAD BAR" right, you just go in that direction Oh, don't feel bad man it's just like my boss says just like it's written on the wall if it wasn't for the students I wouldn't have a job. Poem Don't speak words, the voice is for singing But don't sing songs, dance to the beat of my drums. and don't say I love you lean forward, and kiss my neck. When the time is right, look me in the eyes and send me reeling. When you're walking at midnight, you'll see rolling hills-(be cool) it's good to roll with them. Letter from Anonymous Neighbor "Please do something with your house and yard" Let Me Paint the Walls Let me paint the walls of my Victorian beauty one hundred twelve years old, and still a grin Let me paint the walls of my Victorian cutie with that one-inch brush for the tear drops on the corner of her breasts Let me slave to the latticework if the color isn't right I'm sure your property value will drop Let me paint the walls of my Victorian mother sounds so tall, with her flamboyant color Let me repair the sides of my Victorian lover as old as she is, I don't mind the bother But man, oh man if only you had left your name I could've seen your house; the place where you sleep And the trees above her And perhaps you'd have let me paint your walls Just to return the favor. The Unheard Green The sun crashes down this mountain in front of me onto the lake. The cockroaches are making love, wild under the maple leaves with catastrophic candy bars melting the day away. The Unheard Green is humming underneath the pines. Old women are climbing these hills and talking of their age the sun burns the grass brown dry, but as they look down The Unheard Green still rushes underneath their feet. Through the wild reeds of swamps around monsters and prophets like an old memory it circles the mind. rustling yesterdays leaves, threading history I've called secret birds to where I sit- flying silently from hidden corners of the universe they never stop talking to me they tell me to follow the, not with my eyes, but with my heart. They nest in The Unheard Green. The Unheard Green covers the rocks like lichens in the alpine zone it is silent; and listens to the wind. There is a face in the deep grooves of the bark, around this Aspen Pine it's been listening for years- it knows what I'm saying it knows the Unheard Green, and can't wait to fall down and die so they can join together again in soulful matrimony. Christ Laughing He stood in graveyards when ornate caskets were lowered toward the dark earth he gave a pearly grin He smoked a Camel in the Sistine Chapel, and watched the money roll; casino religio He listened to Billy Graham's soul and laughed. . . and laughed some more He proclaimed, Elvis patron saint thereby, creating the New Church of Elvis Christ whereby, the King strapped on the buckle of the Bible belt and sang rock'n roll as Christ rode home Two for One: Three The act of sharing for two is double the honey for three Two Popsicles in a warm room dripping down the sticks get sticky one the hands Your doors open both ways but can they open at the same time? Are there handles or do I push? Politician Past lives I've seen you, red like flames under burning witches On official government orgies, trying to work out foreign policies with Styrofoam Laughing at the temples and monasteries walking through cemeteries with your golf spikes Inside secret offices, trying to fuck your lies off trying to rid your guilt Talk in your way, eloquent around those questions, with a knife in your hand In Uptown bars, under sewer rat opium dens who are on their way to Heaven Cocaine re-elections, sawing the head off the statue, standing akimbo- calling yourself a hero In carcinogenic bills passed by Congress, who encourage us to smoke cigarettes, and support their party. And over sacred pyramids, in the southwest hid by government wildlife Not like I had a choice in this election