git

moonlight on the cold neon sign
that reads: WELCUM 2 PARADISE
we trampled the Daisy pellets under foot
as we traversed the tell that has amassed
around the property behind our house
because it's been a million different things
like, such as:
snake oil sales office, spoke engraving,
saloon, Vidal Sassoon [Minchey's Cutz],
Apple II repair, Warhammer Clubhouse
and a place for strippers to dance

Sunset, the neighborhood dog,
is perched on the porch
acting like he's got a deed
and a prince for a master

and this is gorgeous:
our faces pressed to the barrel
of a sheriff's gun
GIT
GWAN GIT
AND DON'T YOU TELL YOUR DADDY NOTHING ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE
SEEN HERE

Branch Manager

the acorns
split
under foot,
under black patent
leather shoes

his top half
draped immaculately
(white dinner jacket)

did I mention
the drape was immaculately
conceived in the din
of some
smudged matte turquoise tailor's
nook/backroom

he gazed into the natural weave
of the moonlit branch
manager

he fancied it was some haint
from the bottom of a well
that was lost

in the Word
only to be pusht into the
maw
of the Earth.

The sun was off somewhere
illuminating a Coptic
courtyard
where a soccer ball
undid itself and flowered its
pentagonal cells onto the ground.

he came closer to the branch manager
and saw that there were several
tears
scrawled on her cheek
in Indian ink
and in the tears, little people
like early renderings of sperm

a supermoon was happening
right above the branch manager
and him

the dark brown hand
brushed his shawl collar
and he stood silent
with his mind on his fiance

"you look nice; you ready?"

"ready as I'll ever be"

he had many helpings of leftover steak
touched by the lips of the patrons
he served

his cab license fell behind his study door
and has gathered dust
for thirty years

never again will he shut himself
into
that study
where
he snapped and stayed

out of trouble forever, mom
into his books, mom
on to the great debate, mom

"I only do this on weekends (coordinate)."

the doors
were flung open

and someone in the back of the place
hung her head
and cried

Memphis Summer

I took a walk in Victorian Village
down Adams Avenue
I planted myself firmly
in the belief that those were
just firecrackers in the night
and nothing more

I stopped in front of the James Lee House
and thought how it resembled a font
gurgling through the silty crust
of the city by the river

a font of wheezing breath
gurgling up through a funky gin bath
perhaps this is sculpted at the Brooks

Perhaps my symbols are off key
as I was walking in Memphis, Tennessee

I thirsted for the smell of fresh
poached video games' cellophane weft
and fortitude under duress
to be my very very best

I sing softly to Hostess cakes
rotting on the steely grates
jelly pews and putrid malls
faces painted on basketballs

my fuzzy porn and whistling trees
a brewing, dormant, dark disease
under the sill I perched and thought
I wonder if I'll e'r stop smoking pot

I wonder if they felt this way
when listening to Marvin Gaye
Trigg-interpreted summer time
lacking yellow fever turpentine

Garden City Conceptual Love
Suburb Making Babies Tough
Johnson, Markey, O'Moore (Too)
I Hear It Called "Hollowed Out Canoe"

bt

MISSING YOU


MKM

DOUGLAS SUPREME 3000

THIS NASHVILLE SPIRIT

THIS FURTIVE THANG

THIS TRYING TIME

... THIS IS A DOWNWARD AND OUTRIGHT

WARDEN OF THE HC (HUMAN CONDITION)

I TELL YOU WHAT

Pithos

A star spangled trident


upwards from the wine vat,
turned yellow snow

into "real trap shit"

)()(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
and the sun also rises
on
Birmingham

and in Mountain Brook
waves of "black persons"
crawl belly first and must forever
grovel and liq the pavers beneath
as the cackles of button downers
ring out with the clinks of fluted stemware

and the right hand of the Father
has mercy on us

and a white young man
from the Upper South
wore a tuxedo in Tuxedo

"They brought them here
now they're our problem."

(10 churches gone)
(Katrina blew over)

and the octoganal chapel at
Birmingham-Southern
so ecuminnny
ecumenicalical
ecumenicalish

(out side tho...)
College Hills
Graymont
Fairview
Bush Hills
and the East Thomas Park Swimming Pool (I have a baby)

Legion Field sits lonely in the nite
Legion Field is sweltering
Legion Field has MLS games in it now
Legion Field is a tumor of McLendon Park

the right hand of the Father
has mercy on us

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xwLeb7hWfg

GB/GB

I was apprehended by a Ghost Boy


playing a Game Boy

on a tiedye lanyard

embossed (in script):

"Blessed are they who are wholly occupied with

God

and have shaken off the manacles of the

World"



and the Ghost Bully protested:

"YOU DODGE! YOU DODGE THE 'REALITY'

THAT OL' KIERKY ARTICULATED:

THE OPTION OF FAITH IS THE

REAL

DICHOTOMOUS

DOG AT THE HEELS

DOWN HERE ON THIS ORB OF FATE

AND GREEK ALLUSIONS.

O WESTERN WORLD

WITH YOUR PANTS

AND YOUR DOWN-IN-THE-DUMPS

DIRVISHES.

TOWARD THE DEFINITIVE, FINITE

OF THE VOID

YOU DANCE 'CROSS

IN A FURY UNKNOWN

EXCEPT

IN SOME HOUSING PROJECT IN MEMPHIS

WHERE THE BROKEN TOYS GROW COLD AT NITE

AND THE CHICKEN BONES AND GRAVE DUST

SCATTER ON THE GROUND AS FORCES (ONE) JUKE

OVER SWIFT GRASS

AND AN OLD DEACON LADY IS SMOKING A

YE OLDE BLAQ & MILDE,

ONLOOKING AS A 2001: HONDA ODYSSEY

ROLLS BY (TERVIS TUMBLERS RAISED)

((WHITE ANGELS))."

Tiki Torchbearer

ontological arguments in the Tiki Torch light


dice-shaped ice cubes in the Kahlua froth

Onstar prank call (nod off)

mother goddess garden orb

a folding chair in a sedevacante room

groovish in the groove zone


loc'd in the Buick Regal

my climate zone is optimal and Optimo flecks speckle my damp jeans

"I'll have one Reese's Blizzard for yo' monkey-ass"
cruise to the dock of the spring-fed pond

dip our ankles in and hope we've been covered
(freckles near your nipple)

that looks a little like Rodney Dangerfield eye

crest white teeth prick tiny nibbles

on my lobe

and the tiny persona in the cranium district

is full-moon gleaming on my bitch-ass

"grab the epidermis, because it's showing;

don't worry about nothing but the rain

meter aka Paul's flat-top."

("Bitch, collapse." - Bong Jong Il)

Reid and the twelve inch subwoofers

Reid is hopping

Reid is bumping

Reid is seizing

Tuxtlas (preview)

I was born in international waters
our yacht hit a drug sub
and sliced it open like a manatee
I hear they have two man crews

I hear they have ten tons of drugs
I wonder if the crew gets lonely
eleven miles per hour for
one thousand miles
is ninety-one hours

we limped back to port
my mother changed into her
peasant costume
and my father was
carried in a bag
to the back of a Mercedes
with the square tail lights
wrapped in those ridges
that kind of cry when it rains

I am hearing this for the first time
as a Keurig sputters out another cup
in the butlers pantry
"It's easier than the other ways of making
coffee."
"So my parents were drug lords?"
"Your parents were very high up with Los Zetas"
"Where is my mother?"
"A ranger found her in Los Tuxtlas
with a hippy camp that was sorry
to say that she had passed in the
night under the watchful eye of God."

I clicked my Sperry's together and wished
I had been born to Starbucks parents
who would leave me to play in the bra racks
at Target

or who would have left me once in the rain
and let me poop my pants and scar me
in some ordinary way

DISTANT DOUGIE

MY DOG, MY DOUGIE


MY DISTANT YOUNG BROTHER

YOUR STARCHSPANGLEDBANNER

SITS STIFF ON MY WALL



MY MKM, COREY BENT

MY AFTER ALL

MY NEVER MEANT

YOU SIT IN QUIET MINDS

... IN THE NIGHT



MANY MILES LEFT TO TROD



YOU AND I, COMFORTABLE AND ODD



BUT WAIT! YOU LEFT WITHOUT HEARING MY LAUD



MY ONE AND ONLY, MY ONE BEN TODD