put your landing lights on, i wanna come back down to earth

the monsters are lonesome
they have no dates for the prom
they talk about suicide
they ask me for a donation
i hold up my doorway
i watch the traffic do whatever the hell it wants
the speed limit here just revved up its adrenalin

the queen of sheba with king solomon on a leash
she came by to borrow a coffee filter
we talked about anthony mann's westerns
and she shimmied right in front of my pain

all the literary movements
begin and end in the mens' room at the deft lingo gas station
where the manager's half-breed son
dances on car hoods
claiming he's the reincarnation
of fats waller

the castles, at this time,
they implode and fall all over themselves.
all those self-important kingdoms
are now amusingly vulnerable.
Sir Not Much wants to joust with the sun
but his lance just became a pacifist
and has lit out for the new territory.

hold your horses
even if your stable is empty.
put your landing lights on,
i wanna come back down to earth.
people there seem friendly.
i keep my fingers crossed that they truly are.

Tarzan is seen reading Eugene O'Neill's The Hairy Ape.
Jane wanted him to go to college and get a degree.
Ungawa turns to I feel Sartre overstated his theory of...
Cheetah becomes an Animal Cop on the Animal Planet channel.
Don't ever get your chimp mad.
They bite and fling shit.
Just like humans, I guess.

the mutilated pages of our world
just came home from the binder's hospital.
they claim they are more than ready
for us to read their vitals anew.
get the fire going.
tell all you know its time to come in from the cold.
nobody needs to freeze
and we'll make do with the food rations.

you'll all get an ample chance to share your story.
take your time in the telling.
explore the waters of your body.
visit the magic show of your heart.
at the end of another broke down day
on the ongoing war that is the earth
we throw our weapons of mini-destruction
into the bonfire of relax and take a deep breath.

yes, the bones ache something fierce,
and the circulation in the legs requires compressed
stockings. no matter.
we accept all torn up humans here
and the animals will sing
if you allow them.

slowly sit your tired everything down.
i see where you're bleeding.
you see where i do as well.
we mix our blood in a bowl
and it becomes wine.
we drink and our shadows dance across
the sky.
slowly explore yourself at this most crucial non-time.
what is it that you need or want to do?
as long as you hurt no one
or yourself
the entire game board belongs to you.

the tired species of human
sighs in the impending harmony.
we sing to each other
through our eyes.
be aware of the man and woman next to you.
they might be executioners.
they might be best friends.
let's simplify it, okay?
all executions now are illegal and null and void.
that means they now can only
be best friends.

we tell tall tales and sing crazy tunes
through our eyes.
it is our road home.
it is our bones learning flesh.

we've got no legs
but we love to dance.
we'll be doing it for hours.
if our dancing keeps you up
join in
and
teach us
your
steps.
---scott
florence,oregon
may 29 2009
bob dylan,together through life
david munyon,acrylic teepees