Pawns
roll
oak
in
rage
for
the
war
of
nuclear-moon
at
time's
end.

Emily speaks of seeds
like dust
in the Jersey snow-

Riding through the poem
that will grow
them home-

Braking-
goes the light
in-
disconnecting tags
followed-
blind you
have arrived,
for blind already knows.

The urlanders speak
of man turned brill
who goes by the name
of Walt MaGill.

They say he's mad,
that he spits salt dement,
all night blue
to waterclock chant.

And that if you go 
by the babbling cave
and listen you'll hear
him foaming depraved.

But don't listen too close
the urlanders warn,
for the bulbous song
can turn you sideways.

If I ruled all the world,
I'd say that you were a fool,
if you bought a ruler,
for cheap rulers rule.
Go find a ruler in the basement,
I'd decry-and-cree,
or do as I and use the
"Maryland Commercial Driver's License Manual"
that Brian left at my house
completely free of  fees.

Oh Walt Whitman
bardic every-man
with love and song
for the grass
that is mankind
in blade and in leaves,
democratic and romantic.

Yet Walt Whitman, 
you do not have enough
love to fool
fool-me,
for
you
are
still
a
massive
pain
in
my
(gr)ass
to
read.

Love is a refrigerator door
left wide open
wasting precious cool
in electric emotion.

Love is a refrigerator door
growing old and grey
humming predictable minutes
day by mundane day.

Love is a refrigerator door
filled with magnet men
held up by notes
you wrote her
in the black pen.

His hand shot,
the cavalry man's
action 
becomes lucid
thought of the cowboys
clamoring around him.

[Click here for more.](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0048342/)

A couple days ago Commander Mark and the Secret City came up in a discusion under the What’s this about? post. I was going through the Puritan archives this morning (looking for something or another) and I came across an old poem I’d done in 2002 as a tribute to the talents of Mark Kistler, Commander Mark. Since it was related to the discussion I’ve posted it here. The poem is actually pretty poor and it doesn’t really do justice to inspiration that Kistler provided a lot of people with. Looking at the poem now, I can’t say as if I even know what I was talking about; other than how dumb of a movie Logan’s Run (1976), directed by Michael Anderson, actually was.

Secret City

Secret City
ufos 
and 
secret 
cities 
commander mark 
knows how to get there 
a land where 
everybody paints little happy trees 
and is fed, housed and entertained 
like logan's run 
no bills 
just pills 
under socialist reforms 
is that the life for me?

April 2002

Click on Commander Mark to go to the Secret City.

When
Zango Bango
went
no one could 
remember
his zany name
even though
he was the undisputed
authority on eating a mango,
had written four books and
twenty articles
on how to Tango,
traveled extensively
from Tibet to Durango,
won a gilded trophey
for crushing the mighty
Yen Chango,
and even
written philosophy
like, "Why fight
the void but to fight it 
and grow."
Oh no.
No one recalled that.
They only thing
they remembered
(rather consistently)
was that he was
a very nice 
smelling 
fellow.