Bigfoot is Continuous

old Bigfoot omnivorous and vital
androgynous and radical

Bigfoot has a penis like a staple gun;
a vagina like a bank vault
and a whisper like low surf on a faling tide.

Old Oscar lies under the bride
completely inebriated
a seal barks a gull cries
a truck founders on the last long

Bigfoot comes howling down 101 in the blurred rain
without misgiving clutching a steel rope braided
out of steel string
clinging to logs like an Ahab
atop a Peterbilt looming

wondering who's got what and where
wondering who's got whom and why

The meaning of life is to practice philology
with someone else--to speak plainly and get out a few good lines
at the church mixer; it's nice knowing where the good joints are
how to get there from here.

Bigfoot is continuous permanent universal and inflamed
swearing to obliterate all frontiers, chromosomal or otherwise
and brandish his logic at theologians, digging the history of life
while he plays innocently, a recurring theme of the sworn mystic
finding himself alone in the closet or just out of range
in the wild apple grove
under the huckleberries
on some delicate roadside spot
after the real estate deal goes sour and the sheriff
arrives to abolish him.

Bigfoot sizzles in a pan at Denny's being created naked
and sold for 2.99 before seven
Bigfoot sizzles in a typified waterway looking
for something objectionable
on the mildewed naugahyed of his appointed rack
riding a greyhound past a prison
booking a cabin-boy's job on a seagoing freighter
working as a cook for a spell
handling the long-lines,
asking the captain for bacon-bits
demanding his pay at the first port
living in style for a few days, drinking it all down
at the Golden West Tavern
smoking a cigarette in a California bar
like a true throwback outlaw devil
eating his cheese on the step outside the strip joing
one mile south of Eureka.