80's sound poetry

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"Sometimes Life Is For The Birds"


(sometimes life is for the birds. can you hear them?)


5 billion
A baby born today will be the
5 billionth human alive
Born poor, probably sick
Eat-Drink, Eat-Drink
Buy. Buy.
Eat-Drink, Eat-Drink
Haw,, Haw, Haw. The baby may live
Fast food, Fast Car
Eat-Drink, Eat Drink
Buy, Buy, Buy.
Help it, Help me, Help us

The baby may never work
Turn on the TV. Turn on the TV
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.
The baby may never read.

The roar in the sky is only a jet

Eat-Drink
The baby may die
Sing, sing, sing. A baby is born
Help it. Help it
we can't, we can't, we can't
Please
Haw, Haw, Haw
Eat. Eat Eat.
My Car, My car.

The hum in the air is made by machines
we call them cars.
The really loud ones
are trucks.

Buy, Buy, Buy
The baby may never see us.
Haw, Haw, Haw.
Brave, Free
work, work
Eat-Drink
The baby may love
Oh please, please, please.
The baby may live

Little baby
Little baby
Eat, Eat, Eat,

Listen to the roar of our machines
they are like oceans that may not be seen
The surf of civilization that you may not feel
we have been to the moon.

Perhaps you would be happier if you were free?
Happy Birthday Baby!
Hallmark sends its very best

This poem and several others were written in the early 80’s shortly after we made the permanent move to Minnesota to help take care of aging parents and grandparents. The early 80’s were financially insecure and I had a difficult time getting and holding a job. Judy was more fortunate since her field was child care and she had very strong credentials for the field.

I was essentially cut off from my San Francisco Bay Area contacts. The internet was not developed enough to be a good communication tool at that time. The Web really didn’t exist. To make a long story short, I was writing in a vacuum. I began to experiment with sounds, natural sounds, such as bird calls. One of the things I noticed was that around 4:30 AM birds began to make a racket of repetitive calls and songs which with a little anthropomorphic imagination I was able to translate into poems. “Sometimes Life is for the Birds,” was one of my more successful (at least to my mind) attempts at transliterating their sounds in to words that made some sense in English. I have recorded readings of the poem on several occasions to demonstrate what it was that I was hearing. “A Mosquito sings 4:30 Am: Minnesota” was another successful effort. In fact for a time, it was my best known poem.

A MOSQUITO SINGS AT 4:30 A.M., MINNESOTA I,I,I,I,I,I,I . . . I wing my way With precision to animal heat. The viscous, warm Mammalian liquid draws my Probe. The penetration is the ultimate Moment. I gorge, I feed, I Am at greatest risk. I am Legend. My spirit will live in the Great moisture land of the Forever warm. There has Been no other greater. I am A feeder. I live in the land Of the giant mammals. I Survive. I,I,I,I,I,I,I (the sound of a hand slapping)

A Mosquito Sings (audio) volume is a bit low.

This period in the 80’s produced a lot of refrigerator poems, poems that I had no idea where to send for possible publication, so I just stored them in my metaphorical refrigerator hoping that someday they might find a place.

Minnesota took the frenzy out of my work and actually allowed me to experiment with poetry in ways that I had never really used before. Many of the poems from this period were meant to be heard and read, not just read as much of my earlier work was intended.