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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

Aaron Douglas and his Arkestra

I put away a reefer
and strolled into
Cravath Hall
with the full intention
of hurling the cosmos
around
and
around
the humid grounds
with the aide of Sun Ra
aka Master Groover
aka Mad Dog 20/20 Retrospective Vision
aka Most Solar on High, Horse
aka Horus 3000

the sun was shining on my
peachy skin

each layer of the Metro General Hospital
started spinning like a Rubik's Cube

all of the infirm, derelict, and waywardly
gentlemen and ladies
flew from the building as dew from the beard
of Zoroaster

Georgia O'Keefe peeked from behind the
statue of W.E.B. DuBois
and winked (hold the wink for the shape of the
winked eye should be remembered)

a thoussssssssand Sesame Street
moralities moonwalked by this spectacle
of me and GO and WEBD all in time and space
and so out of the zone at the time of this spectacle

and from the project housing across the street,
the clamor of cold toys
in the darkest night of all time
gave me the impression
that at any moment (now)
the elderly men I grew up watching
joke nakedly in the Country Club locker room
will presently walk out of the floral security doors
in lugged Ferragamo loafers,
spiritedly discussing the DTC (DownTown Core)
while
their cuffed pants are swishing this way and that
to the sound of some crazy trumpet blasting
as if
on
diamond paved
golden arches (wiggling and jiggling)
like a symbolic cartoon in the New Yorker magazine

and their sons' pasty legs and Alabama hair
are intent on keeping pace with the finest
SkyMall small talk
on coy Kurdish women
"I understand the burkha despite the competition."

One million sweaty thank yous have fallen to my lobes
and up them like a rolling tongue of some circus
clown who had a stroke in his horse-drawn
clown-quarters

Thirteen pouty cigars
cordon
the blue linen
Tommy
Bahama
jazz shirt with a jazz collar

the 1993 Corvette squeels away
and my darling outlook
is left in a pool of its own
blood on the coroner's doorstep