Author: Greg Keeler

Greg Keeler is a Montana songwriter, poet, writer, artist, humorist, and professor. He also plays the guitar, harmonica, and kazoo.

EG 31

Even Cleaner

We crunched the numbers and came to the conclusion
that we hadn’t been using the water right, especially
that which coursed through our bathrooms, farms
and factories. We kept this to ourselves
because we were hoping to get a raise.
Our infants emerged from the womb looking smudged,
like they’d just been dragged from a mining disaster.
It took industrial solvent to clean them up,
and even then they didn’t smell right.
But clean them up we did, then sent them off
to Bible College where they got even cleaner
and lost their smell. We were proud of them.
When they were old enough to think
for themselves, they had us lined up and shot.

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EG 4

Can

There, sparkling at the bottom of
this mountain stream, lies the beer can.
It makes me feel new just to look at it.
Had the water not been so clear, I might
have missed it. It is hard not to think
of the foundries that smelted the aluminum,
the sheer genius it took to make it so thin,
so cylindrical. It makes me want a beer.
I wonder how much mud it holds, what kind
of life lives there? Maybe a crawdad, for
the hole in its top has been punched in
far enough for a small one to enter.
They are almost beautiful, the letters, black
on yellow, the glint of the bare bottom.

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EG 5

Hello There

I speak as an old man in the Twenty-First
Century when I want people to ignore me.
I find their cultivated dismissiveness
reassuring. It means I’ve done my job.
I had one last thing to say, and for the life
of me, I couldn’t remember what it was,
and that’s a good thing because they
don’t give a shit one way or the other.
But sometimes one will stare directly at
my face and lie, just to see what I
will do. It took me years to learn to lie
back at them, and I don’t have that many
years left. They will smile at me and say,
Hello there. They used to just say, Hello.

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EG 6

My Own Weight

I don’t have to drink to get dizzy
any more. Age does that for me now.
Once I walked across a rushing river
with a Japanese man on my back.
He was a famous fisherman who had
fished all over the world. Only now
can I imagine his terror. Here is a
haiku he might have written: The water
is fast. My horse only has two legs.
How did I get here? These days it’s
all I can do to carry my own weight
on the perpetual carnival ride
of my daily chores. The bathtub is
an adventure in itself.

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EG 7

The Colors of the Wind

I felt pretty good about myself
when I came up with that title, but after
I googled it, I wound up not giving
much of a shit about anything, much less
the wind. Multitudes have noticed its color,
some in the glittering dewdrops at dawn,
some on the handbags of prostitutes.
It all depends on velocity and direction.
Right now it has slowed to five miles
an hour, it’s out of the northeast and it’s pink.
It’s coming right at you, it’s barely stirring
the hairs on your ears. I made all this up.
I was too lazy to google it. The wind
never had any color and never will.

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EG 8

A Good Thing

The lake is warm. The air is cool. Take off
your clothes and join me. The moonlight makes
the water so soft drowning might almost feel
comfortable. The fire is down. The stars
are out. The wind is so low you can hear
the snowflakes hit. Shall we walk out into the
woods, lie down and freeze to death, or shall we
pack up the SUV and make it home in time
for the news? It’s a good thing we don’t
believe in God or we might wind up
dog paddling through a burning oil slick.
As it is we have invented sleeping pills
and air fresheners to approximate
dying and going to heaven.

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EG 9

Even Cleaner

We crunched the numbers and came to the conclusion
that we hadn’t been using the water right, especially
that which coursed through our bathrooms, farms
and factories. We kept this to ourselves
because we were hoping to get a raise.
Our infants emerged from the womb looking smudged,
like they’d just been dragged from a mining disaster.
It took industrial solvent to clean them up,
and even then they didn’t smell right.
But clean them up we did, then sent them off
to Bible College where they got even cleaner
and lost their smell. We were proud of them.
When they were old enough to think
for themselves, they had us lined up and shot.

Previous Slide         Next Slide

EG 10

All the Guns

In appreciation of all the guns we shall
resurrect these watermelons from
the oblivion to which we have blown them.
In honor of all the guns we shall observe
a moment of silence.
In respect for all the guns, we shall breathe
their incense and write out a big blank
check for more bullets. In defense
of all the guns we shall garner more
guns. In apology for all the guns
we shall offer you this stick-pin of a
flag. In celebration of all the guns we
shall carry them openly. In homage to all
the guns we shall erect a statue of a hole.

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EG 11

Belief

I came much closer to believing in
the tooth fairy than I did in Santa
or God. Santa just brought presents
and was a ploy of my conniving
parents. God was pretty much the same
except he never brought presents.
I leaned toward Jesus and the Easter bunny
like I leaned toward lamb and chocolate,
but in the end, the tooth fairy won out.
I had put this odd currency from inside
of my mouth under my pillow and
in the morning it had been replaced
by a cold, hard dime. Sometimes I
would put the dime in my mouth.

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EG 12

Notes to Self

Remember to get oranges. Remind
neighbors to rearrange stones of patio.
Be more frugal with bird food. Dig
large hole in backyard. Mice can be
friends. Tell Errol to bring spigot.
Never treat people as if they were funny.
Glue shards of mirror to Bible. Mother
wants to be embalmed. Vice grips
are in third drawer to left. Be nice
to Stacy’s dog. Righty tighty, lefty
loosey. Clocks aren’t enemies.
Don’t wrap boned ham in tinfoil.
We are all wounded souls. Write
check to Carla. Never open freezer.

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