Taikyoku Shodan

Turn left to face the dragon
my left arm becomes a fiery broadsword
that barely staves off the sulfur-reeking claw that would have rended my left leg
and forward quickly, as the dragon staggers
and my right fist, now made of granite, sends him reeling

the dragon has a friend
a centaur with a halbard, whistling through the air
to cut me in half at the waist
I hear it and look, then turn
and my right arm, now a katana, meets it's arc
and I push through the sparks of metal meeting metal
and my left arm is a lance, and she whinnies and retreats, golden hair flying

The golem is coming for me,
rising up from the clay of the earth
burning with anger and hate, it rushes
howling obscenities in a slow low earth voice
I counter it's thrust as I half-turn to meet it's attack,
and rush it, meeting earth with anger
three strikes, three steps, and the primal scream
and it disolves into dirt


the centaur bitch is back and angry,
and again the halbard swings to bisect me
I turn, and half again
I take it on my wrist, encased in steel
and forward again, thudding heavily between the centaur's breasts
and again she staggers, and cries for help

and the dragon obliges, whipping it's reptilian tail low
not fast enough, thank god, as I whip around, and my right arm descends to meet it
and a simple forward thrust buys time by pushing him back

because the dirtmonster has risen again
I kick myself for being too gentle last time
I circle in a halfturn and drive my naked left fist downward
into it's slime-clay interior
Forward, three strikes penetrating into it's unliving depths
and this time my scream is of satisfaction as it falls into dust
and I allow myself a smile. One down.

The dragon has recovered and charges in, far too fast
and I know the blow will be heavy, so I spin to gain momentum
turn and a half, and my left arm is a lightsaber
it's teeth splay out, severed,
and I step into it's body hitting hard and forcing it back,
where it can bleed in peace, because I need the room.

She is alone now, the centaur, and scared,
but my back is turned, so she calculates
and takes a chance, rolls the dice
but I hear the movement of the halbard and spin
almost casually flicking it away with my right fist downward
and I step up to her, leaving her alive, but gasping
with my left fist in her guts

I look down and see the used-to-be-a-golem dust,
and I stand erect again, melee over.
I bow, my task complete

Oneline Poem #4

It is the job of the optimists to convince the pragmatists to ignore the pessimists

oneline poem #3

I gotta give up either drugs or metaphors, they don't mix well.

Scream

I bummed a cigarette from a guy when I was in the ninth grade.
He gave me the wrong one
or he dosed me with PCP on purpose
either way.

I felt my heart stop
then start again, as tho kicked by a mule
and then stop, as if clenched in a huge cosmic fist
then start again in an adrenalized lightening thump
and over and over again

I felt my body two feet away
I looked at it as it rotted
in a gangrenous pestilent mass of flesh
I smelled the stink of the decay
and I was left with no physical part

I screamed,
and I kept screaming
and in large part, have been screaming that same scream
for 23 years,
waking in the night seeing myself rot

I saw him again, years later and years ago.
I smiled, and shook his hand
and broke his arm on the sidewalk.
It didn't help.

Lizard