Kintaro in Like (שְׁאוֹל)

BRENTWOOD (FARMVILLE)
RECEDING TREELINE
DONUTS IN THE PARKING LOT
I WANT TO PARTY LIKE A CAVEMAN

MY DOG RAN
AWAY
MY LEG BROKE
N2

NEVER BEEN TO TRINITY LANE
AND DICKERSON PIKE

NEVER TRIED OUT
BUENA VISTA HEIGHTS

NEVER HAD
A LAVERGNE SWEETHEART

SHUT DOWN
IN CRIEVE HALL

DODGED A BULLET
IN BELLE MEADE

KRAV MAGA
AND A GLOCK 19

COUNT DANTE POSTER
ON THE BATHROOM WALL

YOU CAN DIM MAK
MY HEART

YOU HAVE THE POWER

Jelly Fish

I employed
zone defense
against a juice-cleansing
cousin
(getting out in the nick at night)

I walked down the seashore
and saw fish flipping and flopping

You wore a straw hat
bought at WINGS

a panhandle tragedy
in the middle of the moon

a yo-yo washed ashore
the string spelled "ass"

we trod along the Lisa Frank coast

the fungi kicked in and we
turned to each other
and nuzzled
our leathery cheeks
and cried
because
we
thought
we
were
grooving

the sunburn was awesome:
I writhed, played Halo
and guzzled Capri Sun

while your body
sipped saline solution
coolly
at Gulf Coast Medical Center
in Panama City, Florida

#16670 (Kolbe)

My wife! My children!
I am to be slaughtered
I am to be taken
from this world
for the Pax
Christi

My wife! My children!
The nine are crying
(This terrible fate!)
The nine are quiet.
The nine are silent.

My wife! My children!
I trade my crown of white
for red

Soul Patch

the singular genius
onward
toward
"post-identity politics"
and sweatpant couture

Frank Sinatra in the endzone
twenty thousand Jewish mothers
went wild

and a nu-groove
kicked the door down
and a dust plume
curled around
the fallen door

we're wearing collars.
we're buttoning
we're tying laces
we're grazing the marble walls
short sleeve dress shirts
and a Kangol beret /
Wikipedia, toiletries
eyeglasses.

"we're just beat dude"
This is not limited to the city boys
"I dig this truck, etc.
I'm chilling on a dirt road, etc."

Charlie Parker
tended his lettuce patch
and played saxophone
in the Camarillo State Hospital band

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"