Opal Louis Nations & Peter Cherches


Transformation	

I woke up with a sharp pain in my rhododendron
Then fell asleep with a dull ache around my crazy paving
I had a voluminous time just getting out of bed
I set aside a narrow moment just turning into madness
I took a look at my face in the Boston cream pie
I turned away for awhile from my wife’s toes in the Yorkshire pudding
As I suspected I looked just like a strawberry shortcake
It was not what I expected
I decided to call in sick
I looked nothing like the old apple turnover I used to be
Then I remembered I was unemployed



Pumper the Wandering Pacemaker
	
I befriended a wandering pacemaker and took it to a jazz concert
An event sponsored by The Lost Chord Music Society
Featuring Philip Grass and his stoned, unemployable pygmies
The program included Erroneous Monk’s three gut-wrenching organ recitals
“Fugue for Fallopian Tubes,” “The Intestinal Triage in E minor”
Plus “Tales of the Esophagus” floating in a drowning of immersive 
Computer artwork by grad students of weather science
You’ll be my special guest, I proudly announced to my pacemaker
When later gathering courage, I addressed him as Pumper
Pumper was compact enough to fit inside my breast pocket
That I used to sop up spilled gravy
Besides, I didn’t have to shell out for an extra reservation
Or arrange Pumper’s apparel to add seating comfort
I thought the recitals divisive
Crowd makeup split the Millennials from Generation Z
Others felt the music a march to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
Those needing assistance rushed for the doors to the parking lot
Hands covering those parts of their anatomy swollen with rash
I thought the whole mess needed an overall dressing down
Seemed a madness of grubby hands and unpressed suits
Based on the refusal to cancel remaining show dates
I conjectured that too much was at stake
Long four-by-fours were driven into the ground
Surrounded by a kindling of trashed seating
Artists and theatre staff were bound and gagged
Some were marinated, others tenderized by surroundings
All was made ready for the Big Burn
Yet just as sudden as a change in sperm count
Our planet dropped off-kilter
Our place on earth had transformed into an inexplicable “Magic Safari”
Pumper’s brain-pan activity out-raced all conceivable internet speed
Pumper and I could think and analyze our thinking before coming to life
In the form of Red Angel Strumpets
I was a new and freshly unpacked gift with no return address
Gave us an unimagined frosting of joy
We were the keepers of the Guides to the Gods themselves
And all of those who slung out a higher authority
An invigorated interest in shared music came about
This profound joint interest stretched from cakewalking Jerry Molloy’s
“Two Step Hot Potato” to E.K.G’s “Blood Clot Blues”
Supported by The Fabulous QAnon Quakers
The end result of my friendship with Pumper
Was the decision to switch my overburdened ticker with that of Pumper’s
We look forward to drifting, quite deservedly, into immortality as one
 


Little Jimmy Small

Little Jimmy Small lived on his garden wall
His town was tiny Littleton
The whole burg kept the simpleton
But shorties ran the mall

Opal Louis Nations’ writing has appeared in over 200 magazines around the world. He is the author of over thirty books of fiction, drawings, and collage. Starting in the 1970s, as editor of his own press and journal, Strange Faeces, he brought to the public’s attention many cutting-edge poets and writers. He was awarded The Perpetua and Pushcart Prizes for his fiction. An expert on African-American gospel music and R&B, he has hosted programs on KPFA and KUSP, and has contributed to numerous books, films, and album reissues.

Peter Cherches' latest book is Things (Bamboo Dart Press), a collection of miscellaneous prose and poetry.

 
 

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