Kevin Carman Writes

Poems, short stories, essays and words by Kevin Carman

I Need(The Dead Snake Engineer)

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                    NEED! needneedneedneedneedneedneed 

                    Need! take heed of need

                    need needs no numbers

                    need needs no names

                    no not  no net  no noose needs need

                    need needs nothing

                    no never

                    not need

                    I need. i need a code word for the afterlife

                    ready, in effect

                    before conscious thought takes over

                    before a wrong action

                   from a good intention occurs

                   a selfish sacrifice

                   when you know there is something to gain

                   like the moon and the planets

                  or a bicycle wheel

                  a wooden arrow

                  or a hard piece of steel

                  i need a transformer

                 so i can be transmogrified

                 so i can be gentrified

                 so i can be fonzi

                 and follow the vessel

                 the star of my sleeping sky

                my muse when the eyes are open

                i need a telepathicary

                to show me what is right in front of me

                to show me what i choose not to see

                or who to believe

                like the priests of my youth

                whose fingers were loose

                who supposedly only live for the truth

                i don’t believe in anything

                i’ll trade it all in for a cup of tea

                i believe in everything

                it’s just not that important to me

                it’s just that it’s not open to me

                it’s closed from some form of trickery

                some devious plan to control me

                entrap, ensnare, and enroll me

                at twentyone percent annually

                sometimes it feels like a bad dream

                like a memory of a sleastack

                or a broken bells crackled yell

                an earthquake chasm straight to hell

                and i fight to keep my feet above the ground

                i fight to remember to breathe

                to see beyond the pollution of light

                beyond the dillusion of might

                beyond the glare of awareness

                i need to be part of something bigger than myself

                bigger than what i can give

                with this body

                 bigger than the bloom of my self importance

                 deeper than the first visual symbol

                 of a word

                 to the primal lingual taproot

                 the greatest gamblers trap shoot

                 the golden egg

                 the sacred journey home

                 the meandering river

                 the writhing snake

                  i need to coil and strike while the iron is hot

                  under the golden arches

                  preaching the real thing

                  to a deregulation nation

                  on unleaded embediments

                  with psychic empediments

                  i need to get rid of time

                  i need to regulate entropy

                  i need to reconcile private property

                  i need to face what i want to hide from

                  i need to seek the truth

                  at whatever the cost

                  i need to believe that the ideal can become real

                  i need to overcome my fear of death

                  i need to know

                  that i will never know

                  and it’s ok for me to let go

                  i need to sit and do nothing



Written by kevincarman

May 10, 2010 at 2:28 am

Posted in Poetry


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am, have, and will be
secretly sequestering a silent jury Read the rest of this entry »

Written by kevincarman

February 24, 2010 at 7:11 pm

Posted in Poetry

beach blanket babylon

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beach blanket babylon

take me on a boat to avalon

to a house made with bones from a mastadon

and i’ll sing you a song that the road made long Read the rest of this entry »

Written by kevincarman

February 24, 2010 at 7:09 pm

Posted in Poetry

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Another Use For a White sheet

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Stinky did not like this neighborhood. “You didn‘t tell me the job was over here Wez.”
“huh- uh.” Wez chortled, “Then you wouldn’t have come. And I need you.”
They turned left onto Rhodesia Avenue, deep in the heart of Lakewood. A district of southeast Atlanta. This was a particularly rough area, in a place that was all rough areas. It was early. Just after dawn. Wez was trying to take advantage of a prematurely warm, late winter day. In the shadows you could still see the urchins of the night. Waiting for one more crack head to come rolling up. Looking for one more twenty of the hard, to get thru the morning. This was the transition time. Read the rest of this entry »

Written by kevincarman

February 24, 2010 at 7:05 pm

The Solidness of Roads

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It was a sunny summer day on the sleepy garden isle. He was headed to the point at Kalihiwai bay. Riding a borrowed cruiser from his long time friend, and carrying a pack full of gear. The old road was overgrown and curvy. Like a meandering river. Downhill all the way. Tropical jungle encroached from all sides. The fruit trees were choke full. Their first real abundance since the hurricane hit eight months earlier.
Iniki devoured Kauai. Choked up on him, then spit him back out all chewed and shredded. There were signs of the fight everywhere still. Corrugated metal rooftops littered the jungle canopy in the more inaccessible places.  Other areas were stripped clear to the dirt, and just now beginning to return. Read the rest of this entry »

Written by kevincarman

February 24, 2010 at 6:41 pm

Posted in Short Stories

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Baked Potato

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It was quitting time, and they were tired. They had been going at it hard since seven that morning.  Shaping and setting large boulders for big water falls in a massive backyard lagoon. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, and a cool Florida night was settling in.  Luke took a final swig off the bottle of beer his boss had given him. He looked for somewhere to toss it, but the jobsite was spotless. He tossed it into the floorboard of the truck. Read the rest of this entry »

Written by kevincarman

February 24, 2010 at 6:14 pm

Posted in Short Stories

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