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Phil Taggart Poet

Phil Taggart PoetPhil Taggart PoetPhil Taggart Poet

Rick Sings & Walking the Dog In a Time of Rage

Rick Sings & Walking the Dog In a Time of Rage Rick Sings & Walking the Dog In a Time of Rage

poems - Walking the Dog in a Time of Rage

Walking the Dog in a Time of Rage

the minivan screams by  horn blaring  angry 

fist out the window  I must have done 

something wrong  


rage has become our discourse  our answer    

anger  our voice  sputtering  away in the 

ether  on the highways      in the ballot box 


we’re driving through a park  not a very big 

one  only one entrance  one parking lot  

we’re both approaching  I wonder if he’s 

going to the farmer’s market too


my friends online-nip at each other  

clever quips  bite  


I pass his vehicle  drive to the other side of 

the parking lot    as far away as possible  


this anger swirls inside  

we don’t know what to do  


a white man in his 40s   gets out of the van  

sets his dachshund down  pulls a baseball 

bat  from the back seat  looks at me


Marsha and I go look for brussel sprouts  but


part of me wants to stay  I’m angry too  walk 

over to him   isn’t  that how it’s supposed to 

be  celebrate this rage  consecrate it with 

our blood  on the ground  flowing


we find yellow squash  instead  on the other 

side of the park   there’s the man  his dachshund  

his baseball bat

The Satyr Sleeps in Light Raining

  - Perseid meteor showers


He drives   Old Woman Springs Road   

looking   for   a place   free   of man’s   light


once   the satyr   floated   on his back 

 in    a Palm Springs   pool 


Perseid   rained   light   in   water 


salt      buoyant      like 

a dream    it  quiets     him 


he   remembers   Perseus   from    back 

then   the     man was angry      violent 


the satyr    was probably   drunk 


that was    millennia    ago 


they   changed   they   grew up


he’s taking    time   off work    driving 

the Mojave    Lucerne Valley    Landers 

a dirt road    aims   right out    past   it all 


he parks    carries     an old canvas 

camp chair    six pack of beer 


climbs   a small rise    sets camp

thinks about     humans    growing up


he is   supine      canvas stretches 

and    he encounters   star dust    burning 


occasional coyotes   howl   

and of course   gun shots


always gun shots


Mothra and the Luminous Twins (before the movies)

The twins told her stories   when she was

larvae   stories of earth   and all who reside

here    Mothra mostly ate   ready for change   

The twins sang dreams to her in 

pupa/cocoon premonition 

vibrated through the hardened shell 


Hiroshima   Nagasaki   Bikini   flashed 

through Mothra’s   psalm-fortified-cocoon   

radiation immersed the naked pupa 

she emerged imago an adult enraged in pain 


Mothra arose   through searing light    

her vision in pupa 

expanding



white blinds me snow falls 

all around cinder dust grit

its burn peels my skin

Dreamtime and the 101

     Let’s take a trip down Whittier Boulevard 

                     - Thee Midnighters 


just past the 405 going south

a neo dharma bum stickered

hybrid SUV passes us 


last night I dreamt of Rick

in the upstairs room on the left


a hidden room    always there


passing Vivid    the Ford Theater

I saw the Pogues there

graffiti crosses    knocked down road signs


in the dream, Rick is leaving

I gather up what is needed

our paths are so close


brothers 


we cross into Hollywood

the Knickerbocker   the Beatle’s capitol

more crosses   the Shangri Lodge   Destiny Inn

the crush of downtown


we are on parallel paths

like moving sidewalks drawn close 

we touch then drift a part


Gronk and Spring Street

J-Town   Aztlán 

Brew 102 and beautiful bridges


Rick, Rampart and Tommy’s 

I wave


the car hurtles down past 

the 605   South Whittier   and on 

Rick is absorbed   and distant 


he waves back


goodbye 


Copyright © 2022 Phil Taggart Poet - All Rights Reserved.

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