Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

rooms for rent in the dark house
on haven next to the stockyards
you can hear the pigs shriek
and the soil is black as tar
down on the low-low
behind sherries show bar
max could roll a jay at three
jelly rat face diving
headfirst into your balls
sticky little fuck
donna was fixing her face
smoothing the corners
kinking the bush
she worked the villanova
next to the midway
the place with the green door
in the dark house
it was drop time in two dimensions
grey-skinned okie stickmen
whiffle cut with coin slot eyes:
got the flakes
they good
don't fuck me
wanda of the knife edge giggled
and danced in the ring of blue fire
bamboo legs clickety clacking
grey neon pinpricks in a color suckout
clamhead muffled
swimming
yellow piss pocket
gravity pressed
max tied roaches together
tetherballing on an invisible axis
spinning nowhere
pulling each other apart
in the dark house

Nobody uses the language as good as you.

(well I try but hey.. just sayin.. )

I'm tellin ya, your phrasing and images are just magnificent.

You, sir, should be known for your poetry.

I want to own your books.

doreen you're a sweetie.

next time I need general anesthesia just open my veins and feed me this poem then you can do anything you want to me

the block
the world famous block
went there back in '71
with some of my
hopkins amigos
and also the feel of
eastern ave. and
pigs.....i feel charmed
thanks dino

damnit, damnit, damnit... 35 miles away and I missed it

The Block, was one of the creepiest places I have ever visited, it still freaks me out....somehow it became the place to go for bachelor parties...so I was thrown into the alternative universe of it's
degradation....there was a time apparently, before my time,
when the greatest strippers in the world could be seen any nifght of the week, Gypsy Rose Lee, Blaze Starr....best in the business....
I know your poem is about more than that, got carried away...

love the language in this, dino....raw street talk....who would think
that life could be poetic ......great write....

Dino, this is just fantastic and disturbing. Holy shit. "Coin slot eyes"?
That's amazing.

a place with chinese? lot of words I don´t know!!

I like how it sounds (at least in my mind) this part:

down on the low-low
behind sherries show bar
max could roll a jay at three
jelly rat face diving

thanks for sharing!!!

I have a good friend who is Chinese Arcadia, I'll ask him to interpret it for us

yeah
juicy low low down
I can feel the spit splashes on me.....
the hard asses, bruising.
total digout, this, write, this graffiti of it, your incredible gift of mirror words......
H

arcadia, the poem depicts the underbelly of life - desperation, exploitation. it is a portrait in a sense of the seamy side - dealers, prostitutes, children of the young and desperate, etc. though baltimore located, i'm sure it fits into a south american context as well - though the language is sort of a street dialect, or at least a treatment in that vein. it's the american dream turned nightmare. thanks all for the kind comments.

Constantine your poetic gift is stunning. I'd love to have a book of yours one day. Your poems live and breathe.

John

brilliant. a true amercian poet u are.

~chicagowestie

thanks john. westie, you look simply marvelous! are you back from chicago? if they had any sense they'd claim you for their own.