Sagittarian Conflict: The Poem

During the typing of SC I wrote a longish poem titled "Sagittarian Conflict" that was more or less a poetic version of that crazy word play novella of the same name. Since I have so many loyal readers, I thought I would post the poem here as well for comparison.

Sagittarian Conflict

A translucent phone at the bottom of a chlorine hole -
it rings exactly three times - Claire is frightened of the marching cats -
outside the tax office coffee brews -
Famine puts newspapers in an open four-door
(he knows not what model or make of automobile) -
Claire knows more about cars then he does -
on his right is a painting of a tree trunk -
he smoothly twists the cap off his bottle of gasoline and drinks -
the portable typewriter runs a marathon in the time it takes him to say -
I want you

The night before departure -
the winter of her motions -
Claire stood, a stone in the tower of Babel -
like ice, melodies and pelvic rhythms hung frozen -
Famine was a drag on Claire -
He watched the crowd turn into wallpaper - snarling and sulking -
the ring master’s whip cracked -
Claire was trapped inside a magazine exploitation gun
color of a college party movie - the sight of her playing the game killed
Famine’s angel wing visions of lovely Claire -

On display the summertime boy and twisted kite girl -
clouds below the grass wet - a smell of coming thunderstorms -
His eyes shift into hers - will they speak? - the canyon divides further -

1982 the year of west coast kicks and screams -
baby born July &... -
Famine as Pacific Ocean military -
conceived in Philippines - opens his eyes on San Diego -
His love of music and art came out of nowhere when he was young -
his parents were not particularly “arty” -
father was a marine too good hearted for the bullshit
he put up with inside the walls of honor and discipline -
mother had several talents though creativity was not one -
she was a perfect copy - early in her life she worked as a painter of custom needlepoint canvases - she would take a picture and paint it for sale in a small shop in Whittier, California -

...& November - Claire as Los Angles - breathes -
Fall turns Winter, the Nevada desert brown -
blue eyes near to remind the neon people of beautiful waters -
w/family complete - time to pack thoughts into bags and leave -
landing on Quaker land - Penn.- the new home that Claire will cry for -
Several more states to conquer before landing near Famine -

Famine thought on the coming summer ....
brother has a job -
Dad supports the family -
Mom is the foundation -
brother is a genius -
Famine is the leader w/observational catalytic presence -


From bend of bay to shit of sit - our beloved parade -
Famine fakes a knowledge of fine wine -
and expensive fibers firm and lustrous -
Claire the kite flesh flies higher and above the boy -
his humor is hyena soup -

As lightning tears apart the most fragile part of sky -
as Famine becomes the trapeze artist -
words beseech his oral cavity -
fare thee well lost ocean eyes -
Holding his breath he promises to laugh again -
then the phone rings - aural assault -
he rubs his sleep ovals - language leaves the scene -

Claire transformed apples into philosophers -
Famine read the type written pages with enthusiasm -
she wrote her stories so easily - he exploded turning green -
the pulse of midnight broke his concentration -
little hand - big hand - short and sweet -
Famine was the exposition - regain control of the ship -
point the stern and pantomime the bow - arrow through the heart -
like an old cowboy -

He wrote the name of the Madonna backwards -
held it up to the mirror - Claire drew a picture on a napkin -
for he is a sailor and she is a star -
...and you can carry the elephant while I carry the foam -

Claire always asked Famine the same question - why? -
he fell asleep talking - they were seated at an all-night diner -
the grunting waitress who carried pancakes like they were waffles -
He saw the peeling band aids - shooting up syrup -
the morning always smelled and tasted strange -
Set the sails. We’re leaving port - Famine drifted back to his country -
the skylark, the poet, and the pauper visited Famine -
Hook up the computer to the main source connector in the coconut tree -
proud flag wavers - automobile accident and a fractured wrist -
broken hearted too – Famine thinks of Claire –

PART II

The world of love to be conquered -
through the embers of the last morning rise -
hours of 36 passed effortlessly away -
no meals were to be missed -
wine of kisses drunk -
petals of pink cover the floor -

The walls were flaking -
no teenage rock n roll posters
to cover the stains -
just plain off white dirty staring at him -
Famine’s sheets were not tucked -
they were semen spotted -
the radio, the last piece of technology in the room, was still on -
stuck between frequencies -
not quite Mozart -
not quite the Lovin’ Spoonful -
not quite talk - mostly hiss -
the shifting back and forth was somewhat pleasant -
his mind was a spin cycle -
the voice on the radio, “...distance...precious jewels...
keep up the good work senator...homicide...” - the orchestra swelled -
*Beep*- it was not even 9 am -
the clouds were still covering the sun -
the sin - the light -
the previous day had been long but this was ridiculous -
Famine’s clock radio had been on for 28 hours straight -
he didn’t care - he just wanted to stay in bed until 11:30 -
until it was time to leave -
Famine shifted his weight -
the bed springs creaked -
finally, something was happening -
he was preoccupied with his thoughts -
his ruminations on the previous months incarceration -
going over the details and dreams -
through the static Marvin Gaye’s What’s Goin’ On was playing -
Famine thought, good question - still, he remembers how he spent his nights -

They would walk around
the campus talking -
the movement and conversation
only occasionally slowing -
they would take a seat on a bench at midnight or rest at a bus stop ‘til 2:30 am -
the wind would muss their hair and as vain creatures -
especially Famine - (He needed a mirror every minute of every day) -
Famine loved to inspect his appearance -
they would joke about details hidden ‘tween the lines of day -
they would talk playful in foreign accents -
Claire had mocking tongue -
inspired by her surroundings the quick witted
Claire would evolve the art of speech with Famine as partner in crime -
“Oh bus-o driver, stop de bus-o an’ cum back ‘ere. I want you t’ put a token in my slot.” Claire was so very funny - then it would be Famine’s turn -
“Mary suddenly grabbed hold of the stick shift and gave a mighty tug.”-
She screamed, “Green Light! Go! Go!” Claire giggled, “Faster bus-o driver!” -
a flash of her flirting and Famine was gone -
her ocean eyes would reflect street lights and moon glows -
whatever was around - her eyes lit up the event -
“Bus-o driver you make me hawt!” -
Claire would put special emphasis on the word “hot”-
sexual metaphors peppered their talks - the hornier Famine became -
back in his room hours later and masturbating -

She was the love of his twenty years -
the nights they spent walking were the best nights -
the reward for years of ... -
some people were out drinking or drugging - all valid -
but give Famine a way to overdose on Claire Kaufman -
He could die no other way - her lovely womanhood and intellect -
genius made his dick unbreakable - Claire and Famine were walking their last walk -
the night before school let out for the summer -
separated by hundreds of miles -
still computer & phone connections
but physical sight would be banished for most of their months apart -
maybe the chance of a get together but not regularly
and Famine certainly craved her closeness -
around the old University - their comfort walk -
Famine tasted the air and felt his words -
as they were pushed out of his mouth by fate’s fingers -
Claire brought out his happy -
he laughed and laughed and laughed some more with her -
Claire was his best audience and Famine was her best audience -
they passed various tan brick institution architecture cubes
on display as educational facilities - he longed for control of time -
he looked up at the clock tower - it was penetrating a single cloud -
he imagined himself swinging from the hour hand -
“Give me more time, dammit. I need more time!”
Claire laughed and laughed - he loved her melodies -
they stopped outside a maze like complex -
tucked away in a corner under a single light outdoors
between the walls - a saxophone player -
practicing his lonely songs - of course they made fun of him -
“Dumb shit, doesn’t he know it is time for bed?
Stupid sax on the beach motherfucker.”-
making obscene gestures with their hands -
but the music sax man played - a slow romantic ballad -
the horn’s cries echoed off her empty -
a desolate slumber hours soundtrack -
ringing brightly the high notes - gently oozing the low -
Famine looked into Claire’s eyes and saw a deep solar system -
a galaxy he wished to travel -
but she was young, innocent, and independent -
a virgin of soft white - no brute could tarnish her star -
he, for the first time, understood the cliche “lost in your eyes” -
romantic fantasies pulsated through his limbs -
his loins throbbed with procreation -
his engine was hot and stiff -
“Claire...” -
Famine could not speak -
language could only take him so far -
the imperfection of words revealed -
he had had moments in the past
with difficulty saying the important phrases and this time was no different -
“It is our last chance for a slow dance,”
Claire said - his hand in hers - his arm around her waste -
he pulled in close to her - and cheek to cheek they began to sway -
slow motion turnings - the moon was a mirror ball -
poor sax man - he had to keep playing until their dance ceased to be -
imagine two young kids on a sidewalk outside a university
in the freshest hours of day holding each other
for the last time (for a long time anyway) -
moving like melancholy waves to the tune of “love”-
the warm human touch - Famine was trying to melt into Claire’s rhythms -
briefly she pulled back - examining his face in the picture frame of morning -
no words were spoken - their feet weightless -
their motions together with cupid sax man - honorable sax man -
music disappeared into the sun’s heroic rise.