besides this threading circus
misfits, tarred
scarred infected
lie in filth-spattered
cells breathing death
blood lungs phlegm
a nothing river in the
fed sink…
filipina nurses
turn over ancient
thieves and wipe their
ass before a helping
of frijoles
not marketable, not cabaret
schtick, hep alphabet
permeating the vessels of
pioneers, unknown
beat chanters
falling off bunks
into wonder
my friend Cal
from Sac died in state
one day last year
after the cops
moved him
into protective custody
since some skins
wanted to off him
for not paperworking
a chester
properly
his liver
a small piece of
leather
----------------------------------------------
in which papa smurf and her witness
a manifestation of peter orlovsky
in the tattoos of a vandal
out there, by the wings black,
winds waft in juice
t-bird picnics
of glacial marginalization
words never pulled
off the shelves of
tenured liars
whining
with the cadence of
emily post , she never
had a roll, a fated
tumble of cutoff
denim, a grill of
fang within her
grapey lips
pops
could lay some
ink though,
warpaint for
the semi-insane
cooks, crooks
that run city hall
a signifier
that yawps
in iron
and in the lame eye
of a pyramid
some slavic
daffodil,
saying, smile,
yankee,
you have
an asshole
klitkix 10/03
Mort du CDC, etc.
-
perezoso
savoring various local bon-mots,
the half-roasted assumptions
of slatterns and college gals
aiming endlessly for the
top, lavernes and shirleys
battling for a pool of employed murderers,
the evening's line-up
of trailer-camp Lady MacBeths
flushed with leering madness:
how too few times I have seen them recline,
feral cats on some unsheeted mattress
imploring their newest soldier
to enter the carmine folds, to lose
each fragment of non-lust in
a burst of writhing mockery;
to eradicate each pristine point of
Apollonian splendor....
and yet I reckon my sisyphusean
tasks fairly well, yes I discern that
these remaining gasps,
these pieces of parataxical ruin that could never
capture properly the
glints of debased spirit,
halls of souls flickering
in the tomb-shadows of
the debauched multitudes--
their wits wisp through the
haze of yellow cirrus like a
GI's death scream; misogyny,
misogyny, I relish the
thought of daddie's girls and soldier's
brides enduring the crossing of
the river without any
remaining whore strategies to
shield them from the onslaught of
the dark
the half-roasted assumptions
of slatterns and college gals
aiming endlessly for the
top, lavernes and shirleys
battling for a pool of employed murderers,
the evening's line-up
of trailer-camp Lady MacBeths
flushed with leering madness:
how too few times I have seen them recline,
feral cats on some unsheeted mattress
imploring their newest soldier
to enter the carmine folds, to lose
each fragment of non-lust in
a burst of writhing mockery;
to eradicate each pristine point of
Apollonian splendor....
and yet I reckon my sisyphusean
tasks fairly well, yes I discern that
these remaining gasps,
these pieces of parataxical ruin that could never
capture properly the
glints of debased spirit,
halls of souls flickering
in the tomb-shadows of
the debauched multitudes--
their wits wisp through the
haze of yellow cirrus like a
GI's death scream; misogyny,
misogyny, I relish the
thought of daddie's girls and soldier's
brides enduring the crossing of
the river without any
remaining whore strategies to
shield them from the onslaught of
the dark
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