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Salient. Victoria University Student Newspaper. Volume. 34, Number 8. 1971

Prelude to the Flatpick

Prelude to the Flatpick

mama / tho i make no attempt to disqualify the somber moody you, mama with the woeful shepherd on your shoulder, the twenty cent diamond on your finger, i play no more with my soul like a tinker toy / i now have the eyes of a camel & sleep on a hook. . .to glorify your trials would be most easy but you are not the queen — the sound is queen/ you are the princess... & i have been your honeyed ground, you have been my guest & i shall not smite you

"are there any questions?" the
instructor asks, a blond haired
little boy in the first row
raises its hand an asks
"how far to mexico?"

poor optical muse known as uncle & carrying a chunk of wind & trees from the meadow & the kind of uncle that says "holy moly" in a mild whisper meeting the farmer who say "here, have some hunger for you." & lay some good fine work in his nauseous lap / chamber of commerce tries to tell poor most that minnesota fats was from Kansas & not so fat, Just notoriously heavy but theyre putting up supermarket across the meadow & that should take care of the farmer

"does anybody wanna be anything
out of the ordinary?" asks the
instructor, the smartest kid
in class who comes to school
drunk raises his hand & says
"yes sir. i'd like to be a
dollar sir"

the dada weatherman comes out of the library after being beaten up by a bunch of hoods inside / he opens up the mailbox, climbs in & goes to sleep / the hoods come out / tho they dont know it theyve been infiltrated by a bunch of religious fanatics. . .the whole group looks around, for some easy prey. . . & settle for some out of work movie usher, who is wearing a blanket & a pilot's cap / it is one second to fourth of july & he does not fight back / the da da weatherman gets mailed to Monaco, grace kelly has another kid & all the hoods turn'into drunken business men

"who can tell me the name of the
third president of the united states?"
a girl with her back full of ink
raises her hand & says "ernest tubb"

more blue pills lather & gobble the little quaint pills / these gushing swans, rituals & chickens in your sleep — theyve been given the ok & the mad search warrant yes & you, the famous Viking, snatching the time bomb from Sophia's filter tip, down some jack daniels & get out there to meet James Cagney. . .a swinging armadillo for your friend, your faithful mob & mona lisa behind you. . .God ma, the swains are baking him & how i wish i could ease him & honor him with peace thru bis viens, make him calm, almighty & slay the horrible hippopotamus of his nitemare. . . but i can take no martyr's name nor sleep myself in any gust of dungeon & am sick with cavity . . . ludicrous, the dead angel, monopolizing my vocal chords, gathering her parent sheep onward & homeward into obituary, she's hostile, she's ancient . . . aretha — golden sweet/ whose nakedness is a piercing thing — she's like a vine/ your lucky tongue shall not decay me

"is there anyone in class who
can tell me the exact hour his or
her father isnt home?" asks the
instructor, everybody suddenly
drops their pencils and runs out
the door — all except of course the
boy in the last row wearing glasses
& who's carrying an apple

Photo collage of a soldier in uniform

juicy roses to coughing hands assembling & pluck national anthems! all haill the football field ablaze with doves & alleyways where hitchhikers wandering & setting fire to their pockets resounding with the nuns & tramps & discarding the weedy Syrian, surfs of half reason, the jack & jills & wax Michael from the church acre, who cry in their prim & gag of their twins. . .empty ships on the desert & traffic cops on the broomstick & weeping & hanging onto a goofy sledgehammer & all the trombones coming apart the xylophones cracking & flute players losing their intimates. . .as the whole band groaning throwing away measures & heartbeats while it pays to know who your friends are but it also pays to know you aint got any friends. . . like it pays to know what your friends aint got— it's friendlier to got what you pay for

down with you sam. down with your
answers too. hitler did not change
history. hitler Was history / sure
you can teach people to be beautiful,
but dont you know that there's a
greater force than you that teaches
them to be gullible — yeah it's called
the problem force/ they assign everybody
problems/ your problem is that you
wanna better word for world. . .
you cannot kill what lives an expect nobody
to take notice, history is alive/
it breathes/ now cut out that jive/
go count your fish, gotta go. someone's
coming to tame my shrew, hope they removed
your lung successfully, say hi
to your sister.

love Wimp, Your Friendly Pirate