Can You See
Butterflies above Nation
Whereon the throes of ages rear
The final empire and the happier world.
LZ Incoming, 1972
Because the dirty fucking hippies… were right. So the peeps got even with them longhaired pinko commie fags by voting for the Nix. Yeah. His secret plan and all. Still a secret huh. Fuck that man. Gotta get down to it. Soldiers are hunting us down. Soldiers. Shit. Happy is the day when the soldier gets his pay. We all mercenaries now dude. Charles won’t kill you as long as you buy his shit. If you stiff him… he stiffs you. Right on man. Paybacks is a motherfucker. Rolling home (fuck a duck). Rolling home ( outta luck). Almost cut my hair.
By the light of the silvery moon. Pirate Jenny look away while Hobo grab brown bag in all his clean rags. Let’s go downtown and see what’s going on. Those were happy Jack last words dude. Hobo knock teeth out for free Calley hardhat noob and knuckles show healing tooth scabs. Bikers make hippies uncomfortable in the Shenandoah Café so Hank advised against wearing colors. Glerk glerk glerk said the little pint bottle. Beanie lost fancy flask on the road. Look away. Dicks see land. Wedded bliss. Listening to the trickling flat rock future.
Future look bleak without psychic tweak say the Bean. Jenny watch our shit while we go out back and talk engines. But they talk about dinky dow. Colors don’t run- just slow to wear off. Doctor my eyes. They saw the elephant. You was unwise say Hobo. To leave them open for so long. Flat beer is a bummer man. Aint no hope without dope. Appears to be a long time. Don’t pass it up. Flankers bro. Like airborne fucks. We finally on our own. Buy American Pie. Diggers buried the hippie. Another cup of coffee. Another pieman going to the fare.
Butts peak your mind. If you dare.
Marsh Creek, 1863
It was a slow day and the sun was beating on the soldiers by the side of the road. There was a bright light and shattering of shop windows. They came with barbarian yells and smoking pistols, in such a desperate dash. Osh-Tisch (Crow: “Finds Them and Kills Them”) was a Crow bade. Henry met such fellows before on the great plains. Neither changelings nor scouts, they are flankers. Not crow nor killers but part of an army. When the hunt changes to slaughter they will be there. Yet there were kindred spirits among them. Henry remembered.
Every picture tells a story.
Marble Mountain
Wheels of Fire
Of black artillery; he comes, though late;
In code corroborating Calvin’s creed
I’m a political man. And I practice what I preach. East Dingdong was open for business and the L-19 was a special machine. Major Jack was the best pilot on the field. But he actually believed in all that ideological poopadoodle about communism against capitalism and shit. Couldn’t convince him otherwise. Any major dude will tell you. It was right up the strip from fucking China Beach. Showed Major Jack the rubber-bag homebound corpses stuffed with smack. He wanted to shoot our mole. So did I at first. But my mission was to escape the liverwurst.
And Jack was my boss. Most of us made a deal with the devil. Not Jack. Had the awful grace of god kinda wisdom just like Charlie did. Fish head air facility belonged to the jarheads. We kept our spooky radio shit up there and the jarheads didn’t like us much. He who learns must suffer. Jack sure did. He started drinking heavy. Then I got him stoned. We never talked about the stuffed stiffs after that. It was all about flying and Marble Mountain witch… actually a big limestone pimple on the beach.
Surrounded by Charlie’s country club. To me the gooks were NVA and I didn’t like them much. Charlie was everywhere. He lived there. Gooks were the bad-asses from outta town who brought down trouble and heavy weapons. Stuff that got everybody’s panties in a bunch after the bit Tit. So we were trying to direct one of those pincer things the girls in Saigon read about in some Chinese book. As usual we hit our thumb with fire coming down harder than Chinese arithmetic. Pull down pants. Step on Dick. One of those.
Harney washed Jack out of Jenny’s tail with a hose.
Carlisle, Pennsylvania, June 1863
(downtown) Susquehanna headwaters canoe 2
Vot iss? A square package and not a heavy purse? You shall not have my telescope sight, old Jube. Nor the four like it hidden at the Culp farm. We will play cards tomorrow like old times. Over ten years since the Revolution in Germany and I was just a boy. My old friend Karl tricked me into being a Yankee spy. But we German rebs was right and you American rebs is wrong. And you knew I was a Yankee spy all along. You will win back your Yankee paper. And I will have my gold. Indeed.
Before your horses hammer us down. We only weed and seed.
Trolling on the River
Darn old Ducks
Who nobly yield their lives in this.
Hobo was not getting along with the girls. Then along came fast-talking slow-walking good-looking sawed-off Hank. Learned how to fly in his daddy’s bean field. Passed himself off as a country boy. Dilger Hobart thought so too… back in 1965. But the war and shit made Hobo rough as a cob. For Henry that meant turbulence. Hobo was the only one who had actually wiped his ass with a corncob. Hank only knew beans. Green as a bean but a pro ass well say Hobo. Because Beanfield Hank would do anything to avoid a hassle.
A good pilot uses his superior judgment to avoid using his superior skills Beanie would say. Don’t force it man sez Hobo. Get a bigger hammer. Dude sez Hank. There are no old bold pilots. Kinky cong Delta was a school for them both. Mexican speed-wrench coming right up and Bean would hand it to Hobo like a surgeon. Virgin surgeon Hump the Hobo. Delivering ordinance just like the milkman. Pull a day keep the cows away bro. That’s why I aint yo daddy. Hard road back to the world man. Try starting it again.
We owe them something bro. Fuck that man. Better you than them. Banana Bar in Dingdong same as a Fat Freddie in Frisco. Somebody gotta watch yo six assholes. Otherwise you git kilt with ye onan wee potty training. And the band at the Waldorf Astoria. They never played at Gettysburg. Beanie had been around cartoon dragons who wore stars like feather boas. Monty python skits made him silly. Hobo just wanted to get some wet for his willie. But they were friends because they had seen the same glitter bomb. Disco duck. Try your luck.
Nobody responds to a well-planned ambush.
Chowan River, 1865
Von Hot pocket station 11
Henry had a lucid dream of Dixie Daisy Georgia abolitionist who was as fiercely sessesh as she was rare. She will whip the Yankee army all by herself. Then return in triumph like Boudicca and show her countrymen the error of their ways. Of course she was a Marxist. But they worked opposite sides of the river (so to speak). And without her professional advice, Henry’s disguise would have never worked. Henry promised to get her Georgia boys home safe. But Georgia is no Kingdom. It is only named after a mad king. But is larger than the Baron’s forest. So Henry understood.
Daisy was quality folk.
Silver Hobo
Stone Moon
Were folded to the exulting heart
Of young Maternity.
Underneath a bushel your little light won’t shine. That’s why you gotta wear that steel pot on your head beanie. Now go find Cecil. Called all the noobs beanie. As in green bean. As in Beanie and Cecil. So fancy meeting Beanfield Hank in Frisco right after he gets outta the war and into his new bike. Beanie, me and a borrowed Honda was all adopted by the hippies in Hash berry… after the Summer of Love of course. Missed out on that shit. Over before we could grow our hair. Annie who…
Aint gonna happen El Tee sezeye to Cecil and his radio bean. Bo Peep is ten clicks away. In the dark. With snake holes full of Charlie. Who just then blew their little lights out with a rocket wondering off into the sunset. He aint gonna golf no more sezeye to the bean. The noob had big fried egg eyes and a nose like a cherry. Forget the fuckers name. Any who. It was one helluva night. The noob looked like one of Santa’s elves that fell off the gun truck. Gun truck. Shit. We couldn’t get back there on a gook bike.
But there he was. In my hole. Just as the fun began. Going outside to play with Charlie. You stay here and shoot anything that aint me. It was near daylight when I got back. Had to knock on his helmet to wake him up. You girls know what I’m talking about: Mr. Fuck n’ Snooze. Late for the party. Never goes home. Well he did. But in a rubber bag. But I digest. Charlie was hard corn man. For real. Hank delivered ordinance on his ass every day and Charlie wouldn’t quit. And now I killed your vibe. Shit.
Sorry about that.
Fungible Greetings
Fly Agaric
Came out all right, we read
Shenandoah Café (and head shop)
Christmas, 1975 (after hours)
Shroons man. Dig it. And who should sneak in the back door but Hobo and the Bean. And Rocky Rococo. At your cervix ladies and germs. And the wreck of the Ella Fitzgerald. Light freezing drizzle rain and ice pellets on Hobo’s tweet-tweet Sheik Yerbouti disco balls because he forgot a jumper cable. Pirate Jenny was only a twinkle in her mountains eyes and she was up front. Flying Jenny was still carrying some other fool back in the Jungle Ball Racket and Mel Torme was roasting on an open fire with holiday records and all. Jack frost siphoning your hose.
Better than acid kids. Got it out west from the pie-yooties that Henbo know. And if you aint a pie-lit you aint shit say the Bean. Fly Agaric flyboy. Grows right outta the ground. We gotta stop the war say Plastic Dan seriously. What war Hobo note wink at the Bean. Gimme that joint say Beanfield Hank. Shut up Dan. What war. Amanita mascara was used by Pharaohs and the Druids with their Disraeli gears. Eat some. You’ll say Holy Shit in about an hour. Better than the chin music you making now. War eh. Get good at it. Or get away from it.
That’s right. Fuck, fight or hold the light. And it grows on South Mountain say the girls. Besides. Nobody’s that good at it. If we were, we wouldn’t fucking do it. War and the fucking lifers. That’s all they know. Gonna eat each other up. You. Eat this. Soon a new year gonna be here. Only a number to a pilot say Bean. Like the runway behind and the altitude above. Here before you born. There after you die. You listening to the new told lie. Smells from lavatories. Toilet cookies. Facing a dying nation. Maybe we get some backdoor sunshine. But that’s life huh.
Life in the Faust lane.
Potomac River, July 1863
Von Hot packet boat 7
You are dreaming. It’s an Indian meaning Jubal I learn this in the desert. States rights are you and your tribe. Shenandoah valley is your home. Cause is your country. Nation is a thing that must fall. Your country is marching into memory like your poor barefoot army. Now Tom say who are you. Who are your people. My people carry an evil fire. Also the holy water to drown the devil. When everything is property… then nothing is property. Eye saw them above the prairie wind higher than Lee stars falling. One big union.
Remember our river dear boy. Remember the home Konrad never had. Read letters aboard the Elizabeth. Rigging topside silk chinese sails clearing aft for steel screw . Someday give letter to your mutti in Frankfurt. Or use pieces to judge Savannah night current upstream to Von Hot 10. We be in fly gallery then. Where a mighty fortress is our God and a rose blooms amid the cold of winter. When half-spent was the night. One big union. With something beyond human. We will awaken among stars.
We are one.
Littoral Meaning
The Box outside Thinking
The muster and disbanding—
Midnight and Morn.
Shenandoah Café, winter, 1980something
Peeps outside know it is certain. Because capitalism is a religion. Just ask St. Ronzo. Faith is believing what you know aint so. Thus spake the Hobo. They don’t have to understand it to believe it sez the Bean. Peeps outside the wire man. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. But we wuz good at it man. Know eye wuz anyway, diced a dink like a radish. In the dark. With an e-tool. No shit. Aye helped the jocks make crispy critters mon. Now eggs roll in here crackling about they portfolios. Like they never seen a clusterfuck.
Jenny orbiting coffee now. Dark as hell. Strong as death and sweet as love. Pick up spoon and show a wee cream thigh smile. Pirate Jenny. Because there is nobody going to sleep here. Vortice of snowflakes outside. Look at em. She has the sight you know. Gestalts same as the pepper man. Jail bait last year… just waiting for an old crank like you. With a cue ball in an Argyll sock. And the marvel in her smile is no comic ladle. It was her knife Henny. Young man. You must never go down with the end of the town. Well what caan any fon dew.
She made that Freudian slit.
Harrisburg Pike: Carlisle, Pennsylvania, June 1863
First light before the sun. Inside wood lot, family won’t be up for hours. House on other side of road, know. Know about rifles in barn. Nicht kennenzulearnen uber die rifles in the woods. Beecher’s Bibles. Ten crates of ten. Each one assembled and tuned by Jägermeister’s son, Heinrich. Master craftsman and rifle salesman, representative of the Baron. Clouds glow gold now as clouds of skirmishers appear over the rise behind the farm. A fat doe sniffs not far from Henry and bounds away.
The ghillie is only known in Scotland and Hesse, among trade secrets passed from fathers to sons. Does that make a wizard. Ja true, she is a witch, but column is raising dust a mile or so over so these are flankers or stragglers out of line. Nein here come der rebel into woods. His thoughts are mine. Rebel piss splashed on Henry’s knee and on to the barrel of his favorite carbine. Sun high now. Stretch legs oil wipe barrel stow ghillie and here come carriage alone but for the Negro.. Sun low cloud dust crawl along pike horses and guidons and General Jubal Early. Old Jube do business. Jawohl.
Make the double slit experiment.
Steeple Chase
Farm fallows Faction
Or mind could comprehension win,
It sunk!—and at our feet.
Shenandoah Café, Lynchburg Va. 1987
Even bats can know its direction. The future. Dogs can smell it. It is the pervading law of all things organic and inorganic, of all things physical and metaphysical, of all things human and all things superhuman, of all true manifestations of the head, of the heart, of the soul, that the life is recognizable in its expression… and all that shit. Hobo know. Bean stories about pilots going blind into the mountains… and all that. Hear touch taste and… guess. Bean a long time eh Hen. Smell breakfast cooking.
The granite rocks, the ever-brooding hills, remain for ages; the lightning lives, comes into shape, and dies, in a twinkling you know. Guess is the word… Beano. Check out my grandkids. You gonna die all alone without babies man. Jenny reheated coffee. Hobo whip out flask and give Bean a shot. Ill eagle of course. You guys. Don’t want no trouble. Just wanna bake pies. See your babies and raise you two ghosts ground pounder. Could tell they was mine. By the oil and the gasoline. Flyboy.
Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch. Witch they did. Years ago. Many times. Then along comes marry. Sweet as a bunch. Two old men laugh at nothing in particular and nurse coffee and nibble sticky puns until sundown. Hobo stop hearing bugs and dirt and Henry stop yelling at cloud on horizon. Getting dark. Time to head back to Big Lick. Sounded more acceptable than Roanoke. And there was little doubt what course others might take. Old men mistook something else.
Took ship, and came into the coasts of Magdala.
Albemarle Sound, portside evening. 1864
Remember the old days in Big Lick and sing about my Hessian land. Please remember the whiskey Jew bee. Unless you have no beer. We are playing for keepers marse Jubilee. Dixie Daisy you and me. My family served a noble house for seventeen generations. You take me for a Junker because Henry is a gentleman like you. I will count all my old friend Carl’s cannons. That is what Henry promised to do. But Schurz is a Rhinelander like me. Herz Deutschlands, mein blühendes Hessenland.
Henry could be a rifle salesman. He could also be foreign dignitary or traveling tinker or a priest or parson or even a southern belle. Henry had put Marx theory to the test having a packet boat built by black craftsman… with intentions of shipping it by rail to Norfolk. There it was to meet with the engine and screw-propulsion system. Daisy is one. The other is a horse with no name. Because the desert had turned to a sea. The moon is a harsh mistress. The sky is made of stone.
She sent away the multitude, and took Chip.
Mustang Sally
Lookit Here
Mark the planted statues, then
Draw trigger on them if you can.
Hobo blinked at the funny barking man. What is the range of a one owe five artillery spotter round. Sounded more like a statement than a question. How the fuck should I know. I’m infantry. Not artillery. Can I go now. No. Suppose you need support. Call the closest place. If I can’t get it. Fuck it. Can I go now. Hobo stunk really bad. He liked the air conditioning. Didn’t like the wrinkle-nosed Captain in sunglasses. In a cool Quonset hut. Hobo became a Sergeant. But not a sir. And the place was fulla dinks… who were listening, looking… not cool.
OK. You’re out in the bush. And a dink pops up with an automatic weapon. What do you do. Die. Can I go. No. (that’s why the guys called him the Pro) Suppose you don’t. It doesn’t matter, sir. You’d be too fucked up to do nothing. Dealing with amateurs. All it took was learning how to use your own fucking equipment. Professionals. They get paid for what they do do. Poop is what they know. Pro is who they blow. . Faith is believing what you know. Is not so. Can I go.
Savannah River. 1863
50′ fast packet boat. “10” (mud-colored, unknown origin)
This is not about slavery or states rights, sir. This is about Mayla. Pretty business, sir. Not for sale. Pretty little thing she is. I do believe, sir, that fine Solingen steel you wear so. Ja. Like a watch fob. Mit tailored grey uniform. Indicate you are officer. And a gentleman. Have pleasure to give Confederate officer saber lessons learned from Heidelberg. Come with my humble offer. Along with my observations from Falling Waters. Sir.
My wife and all her circle rely on Mayla’s haute couture. To keep themselves fit. In the struggle. For our cause. I am sure you understand. I do. Write a number and I pay it. In gold. Or whatever preferred scrip you witch. An honest number. Beth 10. Now Tom will arrange transport and delivery. And a good day. To you. Sir. Hesh secesh. And don’t pull that weepy girl shit with me boy. Seen your hand. Silk sails I want. Quickly. Pattern from goddamn cotton rags aboard.
Now you come around signifying a woman. Guess you better slow that mustang down, huh, oh Lord a put Hobo to the Bean. Honda electric start blow you trophy wife inna weeds. No need to fuck with twistys. Ike made interstates. Let’s go. Pro was right of course. Never ask permission when you can beg forgiveness. Every pilot knows that. Pippem heh pooted the Bean. Two biker lads off to another life after another war in any case.
It was good to work with professionals again.
Pinup Dreams
Black Bonnie
(Though made the mask of Cain),
Or whether it be Truth’s sacred cause,
Who can aloof remain
She aint getting no spark Hobo noted as Hank kicked her over again. Had a picture of her in my office you know. Lucas. Prince of darkness. Try her again. Fucking office. My office was a fucking hole. Yeah. Huff. Kick. I know. You grunts had the shit end of the stick. Kick. Connie Kreski. Guys had her all over the place. Blonde with perky half-apple tits. Sweet girl next door. Bravo had her stuck up all over a hooch. Before they got blown to bits. Ka-thump fut fat said Bonnie.
Pennsylvania. July, 1863
Volley de volley de volley de volley rip fippa rip. Christ. Infantry. Hope the big gun assholes keep each other busy. Latimer and his stupids might want to do the town like you Dilger bastards did Fredericksburg. Goddam my luck. One can not understand the play without knowing the theatre. For some can only suspend disbelief if they see it with their own eyes and hear it like thunder. Thump goddam. Thump.
Then they allow themselves to think the unreal is real. Gold is no more use than greenbacks. It lives in rocks among iron and such. It has uses to us. Fine jewelry for fine ladies. Not like steel rails, for the most useful blades. To cut timber or meat. Bah. Whisky is in my room and soon I will have some. Cletus. Halt. I am private Konrad eleven corps union army. Shit you ain’t. Dutchman. Shut up Clete. Private Konrad says you may withdraw and report to whatever Early asshole that XI Corps is right behind me 2,000 yards. Ahead of the yanks by half when you shoot. Now scoot.
You can see by her smile that she has the ending. She is not smiling now. Tell General Schurz the main body of Ewell’s Stonewall boys is about a mile away. Long range rifles and maybe six battery smooth. That’s right. Louisiana Tigers and such. East by Nor’east. About thirty million of them. Now excuse me. Gentlemen. I must procure some maps for General Meade. Excuse me.
That’s how it was for me, man. Had almost a year of college and could fly an airplane. Couldn’t take apart a rifle to save my ass. She was the bike I wanted when I got home. Kicked upstairs eh asshole. Figures. Now kick that limey pinup queen like you mean it. There is a battle coming. You need not explain death to the hunter… but the butcher sometimes forgets. Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!
Bonnie ran like Jenny then… all the way to to Roanoke.
High Office
Cavalier
Soldier and priest with hymn and prayer
Have laid the stone, and every bone
shall rest in honor there.
Beanfield Hank’s high office on the 4th floor represented the 1st air cavalry unit of the US army where Charlie liked to whistle rockets out of the boonies surrounding Dingdong Airbase, rockets that could blow a hole in a concrete runway the size of a dump truck. Hank had not seen a horse since they jerked him out of the World but Beanie was cavalier just the same because he was just another butt flake grunt in the big bun wad building that could neither run or fly. Hank was not a good soldier… but he was a pretty fair pilot. Better with bass boats than with horses. Major Jack has a mission. Good time to smoke a joint.
Monongahela 1862. Morning fog moved upon river burning off engine chuffing smoke upstream. Creaking deck open door. Splashing wheel Sherman coming east. Longstreet moving west. Do not take genius to figure out war and stay south of a river. Jubal has big job planned. Jubal cackle wonder why your damyankee dutchman call it Cashtown. Hundred greenbacks per ounce. Quality folk give you ten thousand. Coal scuttle Captain rattle sunrise chill. Cackle in Henry memory. Chief you gotta see this. Dispatch will wait for sawdust clomp downstairs deck. Look at his eyes Chief.
What do you see. My son. One of the 69th Irish Volunteers and god damn all gentlemen. Whisky me lad. Mother of God. What kind of man is it that would not give you his best whisky. I had a brother who was a gentleman once. Twinkle eyed. So he smiled. Then he died. Roll him up in a slick boys and give him to the river. Must have been a fine Jungen. Gut shot don’t live so long. Silly tubes popping balls at each other and that’s just as well. Just a small notch above spears and clubs. Just as apparent (as war technology) was the need to manage wealth of nations. Nobility. Prosperity. Progress. (he is so 19th Century)
Showboat Glenda good witch peekaboo Lilith psycho bitch all hoochie koochie casino entertainment for Mr. Skullhead from the graveyard. Everybody knows that. Right. We are most inventive manufacturing excuses for what we wanted to do anyway. Patriarchy. Paternalism. All real… abstract nouns invented in the industrial age and discussed freely after mass-produced chemical birth control. Nobody would mass-produce machine guns. Nobody would use up the drinking water to fracture rocks for oil to burn. He could find a good way to get back to the World. But he is not a pathfinder. He is a hunter who knows where to look.
Bernays sold it down the river.
waldopaper 
leave a comment