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in the free 2015 chapbook:

The Tribes Joshua
Drove Out of the Land

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The Tribes Joshua Drove Out of the Land, a CEE chapbook    The Tribes Joshua Drove Out of the Land, a CEE book You can also order this as a
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Buzz, Shock

    “There is no known state of human beingness, which is the “correct” form.”
    An anarchist-friend made that statement, in 1989. Two decades later, I used it as the first lines of a poem I was fortunate enough to publish. It represents the kind of thinking to which most of the anal retentive would react badly. It represents something those more relaxed, would nod to. Avidly. With fervor. Dashboard dogs. You know the sort. You might be the sort. The kind of sweet and soulful person, who doesn’t kill bugs, mice, spiders or snakes and whose initial reaction to any theological remark, is the too-high-pitched, “Oh, I believe in God!”
    I daresay you’d shake hands with our opening lineÉuntil it killed bugs, mice, spiders and snakes in front of you, freaking like a savage all the while (see the scene in The Crush, where she powderizes the fresh fish), then spun their head, Linda Blair, in your face, for not worshipping their particular deity. At that point, the word “inappropriate” might get used, but I’d lay odds you’d have already anted to 9-1-1, “Hello, I’d like to reportÉ” At which point, you’ve admitted by actions, you’re a liar. Pants ablaze.
    You read me. You’re not prepared to clamp the rat cage over another’s face for being differentÉunless, of course, they’re a dangerous nutcase. But, see, the opening statement, includes Them. It includes Koresh, Dahmer, Gacey, Hitler, Lecter, Juliette Lewis in Natural Born Killers, Vlad the Impaler, Joseph McCarthy, the guy who took a shot at Teddy Roosevelt and the Marquis de Sade. It includes every mode. Every twist. If nothing is ‘the correct form’, then, it’s anything goes. And I think, on a sand planet called The Dawn of Civilization, ‘anything’ did.
    I worship a hairy thunderer who backed The Children of Israel. And, I believe that, when they got to The Promised Land and it was already subdivided, The God of Love told Israel to kill all the barbaric bastards, lay ‘em waste, put ‘em to the sword. Know why? The tribes already there, were babykilling wingnuts, grunting, mud puddle-farting crazoids. Creatures of shelter, food and warmth, nothing more. Karen Black, at the end of the “Devil Doll” segment. Whole tribes composed of Koresh, Dahmer, Gacey, Hitler, Lecter, blahblahblah. YHWH didn’t cott’ to that. He ordered Joshua, Israel’s leader at that time (Charlton Heston having gone off into a mountain, to write about his own death), to mow ‘em down, scorched Earth.
    And Joshua, not nearly the hardass Charlton Heston had been, didn’t wipe everyone. Not all the blood drinkers. Not every hate screamer. Not the last of those who bit their own toenails. These went on, lived, andÉyes, some of their number were women. Hundreds of years later, you had the same problem. And this time, it was allowed to remain, unchecked.
    Then, in 1895, a pinched sort of thinker named Sigmund Freud, began publishing a series of beautiful novels, spun utterly of whole cloth, which in turn would cloak the descendents of the animalistic tribes, the savages, those of rank mind and dubious choices, the unacceptable and yes, inappropriate. The tribes, now intermarried throughout the Earth, were the haunters of Society’s edgesÉa Society that told everyone, increasingly, “There is no ‘normal’!”, then found a way, a napkin-based way to kill Koresh, kill Dahmer, kill Ga—well. You know.
    This chapbook is about mental illness. I’m unsure there is any. Some of you will laugh aloud at these poems. Let it be this act, which betrays you.

CEE beginning West with The Donner Party, May 12th, 1846



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