Detroit Steam Detroit Pounder, done jumped the track Once your gone, no sense going back Big black train, headed for the Lode Stoke that fire boy, shovel more coal. Elijah Boyd, left town in ‘48 Spit goodbye, headed out the gate Climbed aboard, that last Westbound freight Drew an ace, to his aces and eights. Some say hide boy, some say run Some say peace, at the end of a gun Ain’t no use, carryin’ on that way Everyone knows, you got to kneel to pray. Get you high boy, get you high Head in the clouds, feettouch the sky Elijah Boyd livin’ fine, not askin’ why Westbound whistle, can testify

Ezekiel Ezekiel saw the wheel Who do I Care what he means As I lie on My bed w/ fingers l a c e d inter w o v e n l a c e d behind My head

The GearDaddy BendBack I. Gear daddy bend back strip trip nice lace face. Naked no. Peeled no. Spike stroke no joke neat feat real nice beat. Twissure twaddle fiddle down, Mississippi, Arizone can take you back. Cowboy hat too much fat rib-eye sticking daily. Naked no. Peeled perhaps. Bric-a-brac will set you back a teapot shouts hooray. Creamy cream, A ray from Turkey Lurches toward the mosque. Spit stain mean machine rank but trotting gaily. Naked no. Peeled yes. A-twiddle and riding the camel. Sun so hot and red on top The hat the hat a fat cat.

II. Oasis of pain oasis of pleasure seemed to be both at once. Shimmer shim shr Shams Palm date fig prune grape. Can you feel it asked who himself answered no one heard. Shimmer shim shr Shams Slake pit-bull thirsty tiger. Camel back to desert to a town without a name. Shimmer shim shr Shams Palm date with fate. Coffee hatch, Palm thatch, Tuft a market, Black and blue, Dusty twirl, Twiddle twaddle, Persimmon ripe flake Lazily twirling down the diving highroad. Eth- ethic Mesopotamian aesthetic. Nile valley as a youth seen better days, Camel camery camarada snap shot. Shimmer pant desert rant oasis lost again both at once. Nicely done and up. Ethical.

Radio Monitoring (a found poem) "But being the kind of curious person who is attracted to radio monitoring, you have probably already wondered about how to make use of the external antenna jack you have discovered on the back or side of your portable." (From, Radio Monitoring; The How-To Guide by T.J. “Skip” Arey WB2GHA) .50 cents worth of common household wire Certain portions of the spectrum DC to Daylight Train your ears for digging Make your logbook bulge Speaking of waves Sunset listening Very low frequency 10-14 kilohertz

Mr. Walker’s At Mr. Walker’s they breed fleas They’ll bring you to your knees Jumping up and down Like little savage clowns At Mr. Walker’s they breed fleas At Mr. Walker’s they don’t care About war and all the poor They’re too busy drinking rail And eating stringy cheese At Mr Walker’s they don’t care We’re double booked again I guess you’re moving on We do hope you enjoy the night Out the door and to the right The carpetbaggers have arrived We’d like to let you in but: You Don’t Sound Like We Do At Mr. Walker’s they suck up To every little whore Who pimping comes a calling With an offering of a spanking Like a perverted little twit Who forgot how to diddle a twat Like an inverted little imp Who likes peeing in a cup At Mr. Walker’s they suck up At Mr. Walker’s they lay back And wave in the breeze gone by Like little donkey phoneys Constipated by their macaroni As nutritional as baloney Guaranteed to leave you moaning They say they’ll never stone you Unless you Stone Them Back Thwack! At Mr. Walker’s they lay back At Mr. Walker’s they dance light Waltz skimming across the floor Spend mommy’s money SUV dip politely most lovingly into the cookie jar At Mr. Walker’s they dance light I put two slices of bread in the sun. One was smeared with shit. The other with jam. Guess which one attracted the most flies? WHEN YOU HIT THE END OF THE ALLEY GO UP MY BROTHERS GO UP! At Mr. Walker’s they play fair Might even perfume the air With a scent so unique You’d swear it was bottled in Lalique But when you open up the cap For just a little dab You’d be wise to hold your breath Or be chloroformed to death At Mr. Walker’s they play fair At Mr. Walker’s they act nice Like little Georgie Porgies And the royal family with their Corgies They’ll sneak up behind at the orgy and give your balls a kick At Mr. Walker’s they act nice We’re double booked again I guess you’re moving on It rarely happens this way Everyone’s got to get a chance to play The carpetbaggers have arrived We’d like to let you in but: You Don’t Sound Like We Do I put two slices of bread in the sun. One was smeared with shit. The other with jam. Guess which one attracted the most flies? WHEN YOU HIT THE END OF THE ALLEY GO UP MY BROTHERS GO UP! We’re double booked again I guess you’re moving on It rarely happens this way Everyone’s got to get a chance to play The carpetbaggers have arrived We’d like to let you in but: You Don’t Sound Like We Do