Blues for Hal Waters

My head, my secret cranial guitar, strung with myths plucked from

Yesterday's straits, it's buried in robes of echoes, my eyes breezeless bags, lacquered to present a glint . . .

My marble lips, entrance to that cave, where visions renounce renunciation,

Eternity has wet sidewalks, angels are busted for drunk flying.

I only want privacy to create an illusion of me blotted out.

His high hopes were placed in his coffin. Long paddles of esteem for his symbol canoe.

If I move to the stars, forward my mail c/o God, Heaven, Lower East Side.

Too late for skindiving and other modern philosophies, put my ego in storage.

The moon is too near my family, and the craters are cold in winter,

Let's move to the sun, hot water, radiant heating, special colors,

Knife-handle convenience, adjacent to God, community melting free.

Eskimos have frozen secrets in their noses and have chopped down the North Pole.

The Last Buffalo will be torpedoed by an atomic submarine, firing hydrogen tiepins.

God is my favorite dictator, even though he refuses to hold free elections.

I worry about the padlock I painted on.

My hair is overrun with crabgrass, parts of my anatomy are still unexplored.

No more harp sessions for me; I am going to hell and hear some good jazz.

Do you hear the good news, Terry and the Pirates are not really real.

If you value the comfort of your fellow worshippers, don't die in church.

Why ruin our eyes with TV, let's design freeways after dinner tonight.

He might have lost some friends, but Jesus could have made a fortune on that water to wine formula.

History is the only diary God keeps, and somebody threw it on the bonfire.

The day of the Big Game at Hiroshima. The moon is a double agent.

This year the animals are holding their first "Be kind to people" week.

The Siamese cats will not participate and will hold their own convention in Egypt. The civilized world fears they may attempt to put Pharoah back in place on the throne.

For God's sake, Hal, jam the radio. Trip them with your guitar.