The Beginning: Keeping the Monkey Men at Bay

So this is the beginning of the Rabid Bat Collective on the web, which is a bigger manifestation than it was as a spoken word thing. It took a lot of time to quell the uprising of the monkey men, this is my excuse for taking so long to start this damn thing.  I've also been too busy preparing for the impending zombie apocalypse.  All these excuses are now gone, because this is the first post.  Here are some poems I wrote a year or so ago to begin.

Brick Stays

above asphalt, concrete
The dirt path narrows and
   opens
Leading to a lane where
 birds gather more than usual
The ground levels
      for a moment, a path opens
through middle grass
   he used to walk in pioneer days, the way to his cabin
where a chimney still
    survives around tree neighbors

-11/2/09

Indian Giver

In a dig for the rare,
  they found more than bones
Turquoise beads, medicine bowls, the sun

The cactus turns, a shadow stretches
       like a dog, and midnight starts to run
   with sand
The water that evaporated
    Rose, a ghost that
        hummed, a cricket as the voice
Each grain was red, then green, then black
Each plant was binary
   with one side moving and the other looking lifeless

10/12/09

-Grant Blakeslee