Let's see how far we'll get
A climbing road twists through the alpine hills
Of golden poppies and purple vetch
Moss covered trees anticipate the arrival
Of the dinosaur park
Let's turnaround and stop for photos.
A teradactyle hung from an oak near the house
A simple case of shameless roadside seduction.
We find ourselves in bed with a T-Rex eating surfboard.
Back in Morro it was easy to superimpose
The image of the monolith on the smokestack
And the image of the sala over the rock hill
Remembering Punta de Vacas.
Last night we watched the preview
of Silo's first monthly transmission.
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
Negro In Black
Automatic transmission service atmosphere once a month
Fairground music with Chinese tones bending notes behind voices of happy children
Andean flutes and dust whirlwinds beside us
He stood behind a crystal clear podium opening a consise world view
That pointed Humanistic action towards the future
How odd we had referred to lifting up parking lots and spirits throughout our journey
To now find Negro decreeing the need to lift the enormous wall that stands between us.
Almost too much clarity for three minutes
We had to watch it three times last night
And another three times this morning
Carrying it with us in our heads on the road.
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
We are on the Fast Course and Walt's flying on an apparently bottomless back gas tank
The plains dotted with farmworkers planting an empty field
Our Ceaser Salad of the future
Crop after crop, it's Steinbeck country minus the mice
Jose wouldn't let us into the bathroom in Greenfield
Because he wasn't finished cleaning it
June told him to back off,
I explainde the concept of fixed image in Spanish
And Erika gave him our tour postcard.
You can tell it's a poor town by the new Launderette
On Main Street.
High school kids passed the gas station in droves
Once asking questions for her sister the poet.
Moved by the parade of young lives,
Alone in Soledad's soltude.
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
How can the young rise above the market forces
That steer their needs with such mastery
That often old age comes sooner than one's awareness
Of the manipulator's expertise.
Cut off by a school bus on 183 heading West to Santa Cruz.
This is leafy green country with infinite perpendicular rows
splaying out from the highway.
Passing through the artichoke capitol of the world without Fidel
Seems to be missing something.
But I've never been more wrong since we were received
with thousands of laughs, giggles and bubbling joys
By the crew of girls who managed our culinary dream of
Deep fried artichoke hearts.
Kurt & Ken (Mobile Poem)
Isaias was going to pass you his pint of Rocky Road Ice Cream but he accidentaly ate it all
Kurt wondered if Watsonville was named after Sherlock homes,
which ken said was elementary my dear Kurt.
Purple ice plant carpets the sides of the freeway,
as the joy of the girls from Castroville
lingers in our hearts.
It's a Buena Vista Drive up Highway One to Santa Cruz tonight.
The cynicall revenge is removed from our hearts
By the open interest we encounter at every stop
we make these days.
Freedom Boulevard showed up right away.
We held our breathe as the frantic flashing lights
Of the Highway Patrol sped by in front of us.
I think we should drop cynical revenge from this poem
And Dick agrees with me.
Kurt, Ken & Dick (Mobile Poem)
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