I slipped a strawberry inside, and it all proved for nothing
She is demented and full of cheese, anyhow
I need a doctor and advice about atomic clocks
But I am tired, and it’s late on Sunday
Cushioned by daffodils, she leisured
Accustomed to such treatment from birth
I like pencils, and lamps with the frills on the shade
The moon is just a jackass these days
3. It Won’t Go Away
It has become acquainted with my doorstep.
It knows each of my children, in a specific way
It does my gardening, it complains in a meek tone
It will not go away.
Seven scavengers came to me, rather unorthodox
As they explained this unfortunate permanence
I felt a warmth in my woolen socks like love
All this in the Smothering Room.
It subsides as a myna bird
It lingers like a man who didn’t get the clue
It ships my packages, it returns my taxes
It will not go away.
Can’t we all just go fishing?
Rather than settle and dust in this decrepit tomb
I am that same lost wanderer
And I have traveled passed so many fools
Remnants, and she has her little orgasm
I’m trapped in this aquarium I live in
Is there a fire alarm going off?
A stone thrown through the infernal glass hallway
Had a dream that the kittens
were on some sort of crusade.
Is he a sadist?
as he smothers the kittens
6.The Legendary Kyrgich Khalil
On the ferry,
Along the river
No one knows
A man in dark garb
Asks what I’m looking for
“I’m not sure,
“But this is the Kyrgich Khalil,
“So we’re between nowheres.”
Roars, the river
Look on, pining
The man leaves then,
On his own sojourn
I can only surmise
As this is the Kyrgich Khalil
Coasting on nothing, through fog
I run into that man
In grey garb, amongst the clouds
It is he
I observe, from afar
Somber crooning on the Kyrgich Khalil
Fading into clouds and clothes -
7.As She Chases, After Time
It seems so bloody tasteless
Always looking back and crooning
Groaning over yesterdays
So as you are out, with errands
I think I’ll have a nap.
Please pick up more bologna
As you are out for tea, and
Remember: there’s a reason they say
That time gets away- it always does
Oh, run and chase me off to sleep.
8.PINTGLASSES of MUSTARD (i)
The paramount moon, tonight
Glows and gloats a million fold
Jeff’s here. I know. Disappeared.
I’m that same rheumatism
You remember, while sulking in your trees
With me. In the morning-time.
It’s stashed all around your house, with
a whole pint glass full as the centerpiece.
Plain old. American. Cribbage with Gran-Gran.
9.Chicken Fried Steak
What a wonderful dish bestowed unto me
From a wretch of a tramp at the old greasy spoon
It ain’t sweet, dangit, it’s savory
Motherfuckin’ chicken fried steak!
Fix me up with summa’them hash browns
Few ladles of that there gravy, if’n ya please!
I fuckin’ love chicken fried mother fuckin’ steak!
Cubesteak on it’s own is dull, but lather it in batter,
And pitch it in the fryin’ pan, with a heapin’ scoop’a butter
No one loves me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill myself!
But at least I got this tasty fuckin’ chicken fried steak!
Yum yum, eggs over easy, break those fuckers over the ‘browns
Eat that shit with a Dr. Pepper or somethin’
Then stab the cashier so’s you don’t have to pay.
10.Into the Wood
You slip from view, laughing,
Walking with that strange little man
We happened upon once, or vice versa
A smug grin, a nasty little emerald suit.
Oh, the compass becomes spellbound
Useless as the needle spins around
Yet you find some comfort in the shell
That was that little demon man
For he only stares on at this and that
With somniferous onyx pools
That can only penetrate and destroy-
Only you would find that humorous.
11.For Rosie, Who Passed So Gracefully Early Summer 2012
Though you are gone, old dog
Know this: that’s a mutt of a moot point.
You were the quiet champion
Of so many young, tender and painful moments
And with a silence speaking louder than words
We were lucky to have you eleven whole years.
Your spirit toward the seemingly simple &
Your sharply canine energy has far from vanished.
Rather, it has retreated to the more comfortable and
Quiet corners, watching over us forever.
Seven betwixt the mangled briars dared
Not one without some fickle gesture
Adorning strange fixations all.
There was some quiet pain beneath them
That propelled them hither and thither
Snow and mountains only retard.
I’ve never met a snail who sailed
Upon a wind without them there
And I fret I ever meet one.
The ugly details come to light
Between those same gnarled limbs
And we have to go home now.
13.I’ve Worked with the Incompetent Fools
Sweat and cursing befoul of natural repose
Scraping and metallic suffering
Unnerving tedium, punctuated by meticulous wastes of revenue.
Awkward breaks with strange and aimless dialogue
Leading somewhere and dropping off, forgotten
I have to give this idiot a ride home?
14.PINTGLASSES of MUSTARD (ii)
My soup has far too many crackers in it now.
I’ve reduced it to a thick saucy paste.
I’m reminded of my tendencies toward love
More so than those toward my kitchen.
I empty my bowl and fill it again.
15.A Message for Laurence Fish Paste:
There’s no more boom in the windahs
No more shellac to sling thru the mirrah.
Boxcahs, Boxcahs, Boxcahs…
“-the fuck d’you want?”
“I wanna see your driver’s license!”
“What for? Face it,
“I’m only a block from home; why don’t you let me go?”
“Look, I just wanna see your driver’s license.”
“Ah, Christ. I got it in here somewhere.
“It’s in the car. I’ll get it.”
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