Chicano Poet

Friday, September 02, 2005

The Ghost Of Walter Lantz

Henry Ozymandias filled with warm desert sand
tried to walk out of the city
until the ghost of Walter Lantz, half afraid,

bobbed and bobbed its head
to duck the diving woodpecker attack
which had already worked John over.

The Magical Mystery Tour struck a barge
the storm had placed on top of the other Beatles,
they couldn’t wiggle out from underneath.

So, John was quite exposed
and Yoko’s oriental rapture
diminished in Dakotas.

And, while we continued to talk to you,
the ghost of Walter Lantz
looked like a transparent white shirt---

its unpleasant sound of Ravi Shankar music
crawled under the skin
of Norah Jones and her mother.

John, meanwhile, was bleeding from the head
in a song he lovingly composed for you
who ignore him now.


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