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  November 2004
volume 2 number 4
-table of contents-
 
  home   (archived)
 
  contributing poets
  Askew
  Matthew A. Barraza
  Tom Berman
  Jack G. Bowman
  Quiana Briggs
  Tony Bush
  Joseph Camhi
  Velene Campbell
  Michael Ceraolo
  Rosemarie Crisafi
  Dan Danila
  Francisco Dominguez
  John Feins
  Daniel Garcia-Black
  Ursula T. Gibson
  Larry Jaffe
  Donna Kuhn
  Marie Lecrivain
  Sharmagne Leland-St. John
  Laura A. Lionello
  Harold Lorin
  Rick Lupert
  Stosh Machek
  Kelly Ann Malone
  Terry McCarty
  Tim Peeler
  James Pinkerton
  Beverly J. Raffaele
  E.W. Richardson
  Ken Scott
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  Rev. Dave Wheeler
  Robert D. Wilson
 
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Rev. Dave Wheeler
November 2004
   

 

bio


    Reverend Dave Wheeler is a poet who became addicted to words at age 14. Although he frequents PA meetings (Poets Anonymous) with several fellow "poetry junkies," he still wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat searching for pen and paper. Remember, the addict has to want to change!
    His main focus these days (aside from stumbling down the 12 steps for poets) is helping poets to preserve their work in the digital domain. He has been able to produce about 80 complete compact discs featuring spoken word artists from the Southern California region. Some of these recorded words have made it to national airwaves and other interesting places. For more information: dwheeler@prodigy.net.
    Yes, he is legal to marry, bury or baptize!

   

 

The House is Still Standing (a.k.a. Impromptu Poetry Party)

The house is still standing


After rocking waves of words


We buried things in the back yard


Like bones and truth to preserve


The transient is no longer interesting


But is


Like wine or words


The light is passed


From each to next


Roof top confessions


Burn in their simplicity


Sacramental water anoints the throats


Of thirsty travelers


We dance on swings and waves


Spinning in wine and sacred flowers
I want to become more pious


But don't


I want to sink into the depravity


Of other peoples minds and my own


And do


Spitting rhythms and conversations


Basking in all that is sinful or shameless


But is neither


I want to taste the labia


Of your mind


Sucking on ice cubes and beer at


The incense altar


Candle lit carcass of every day that has ever passed


Or will


I want to reach infinite wave form


Perfection of chaos and singularity


The moon is full on the lips


Forceful


Brightly shrieking tones of approval and


Dismay


I may come back to the ground


One day


But not this night or any


Life soon


This manic mayhem of colors


Is pleasure


Defined


Colors of we dripping down mirrors


In clumps of pigment and oil


There is a cup at the edge of


A table


It is empty, fill it


With sand or wine or beer


Or sacred flowers


Of hope or piety or innocence


Or what ever you have to offer

Spill it


On the floors of our minds


And smear it with fingers of tongues


Swirl it in paisley wind-blown patterns


Of madness


The clarity of madness becomes sanity


All saints fall into hell pits of


tobasco pools


I reach for insight


You grab my hands


Guide me along the guard rail of freeway traffic signs


Pulsing and bleeding directions


Only to the lookers


We all are looking


We all are seeking


Madness or


Clarity or


Insight to guide us through darkened halls


We burn double edged candles


Gray matter is only ash here


Until insight springs provide the lubrication


Necessary for movement


Movement is necessary


Touch is necessary


Touch me with clear thoughts of


Madness


I will kiss you deep in your heart


Sucking the puss off a malevolent


Corkscrew patter infection of


No feeling or cruelty


I will pull the nails


You will become only stigmatic


No longer crucified


Free to move or stay


Return the favor by listening


Or telling


We are truly in this together


We are truly part of the same thing


I feel waves crashing at my feet


We fill the cup from many wells


I love you

copyright 2004 Rev. Dave Wheeler