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Friday, January 31, 2020

First Wife, Originally Called Cabaret

I last saw her as a waitress in Illinois 
in the bathroom apologizing for her compartmental way.
Does a kiss have value 
if the kissed don’t ultimately care? 
What am I experiencing?

at the end of a long night-- 
three hours of comedy music and drama 
spilling from theater streets 
where women sell coral beads  
tins of homestyle delicacies: 
relish, cockerels, turquoise, secret 
years following a trail of feathers  
one has no tolerance for 
such questions or those questions' memories   
of following a trail of feathers  
southwest of apologies without effect. 
--------------------------------------------------------------

Some nights walking the docks 
in search of someone I could save 
to atone for being this 
leaking mystery you don’t-even-care-about

I thought about it, yes
and some nights  
I lost track of you working  
too hard for a delayed vacation.  

And it's too late to take me back now.

I last saw my lover as a waitress in Illinois. 
In the bathroom.

Apologizing for not loving me.

Balboa

Some visions last like your first kill. 
Some voices carry 
like monkeys' in the forest. 
Feel yourself blind with broken knees  
crushing through a forest  of mosquito-bleeding rain.  
Cooked in metal shells land 
and gold, taken naturally  
from cacique to king  
slaughtering men for acting like women 
mad enough to taste the fungi 
growing from the blood.

When a man sees gore  
run down a mountain peak 
when a raider finds a new goldmine 
waiting to be pacified 
he feels my sunless weeks imprisoned  
in a jungle killed for king and god: 
My ocean. My sunset. My pearls.

Even in the conquered I find a home. 
Atrocities accepted as the will of god 
enough alliances to show my estate 
followed by false charges and three hard axe-blows . 

The quest was tough disappointing neverending and misguided.

But my vision of the ocean  
is yours forever.

Some visions last. 
Some voices carry 
like a monkey's in the morning 
you want to go away.

Aztec Observatory

The mountain IS a jaguar. 
Inside its mouth 
every tooth's a scroll. 
In this library of scrolls, priests ask  
Is this the right one?
But none of them are 
and there is no way of acquiring more. 

Stars stare from the eyes. 
The motorcycle repeats the déjà vu the motorcycle
disappears into the magma.

The jaguar rises with lava.

The scrolls are ready once again to burn.

To an Unknown Colombian Woman

Gridlock was rattling itself toward freedom! Monsters! Tyranny! Revolt. 
I gave up T&P with semiautomatic compassion 
for History changing unlike anything before.

She said You are my sky 
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck
and put me up there in the Screaming Sixties 
where the scalp of Earth 
curves into the mint-black sex of space 
as I stroll among the mint-white tongues of sea.

If I did, I died. 
If I didn’t, I died. I reasoned.

You can cry or you can sing. 
So why 
not 
sing?

Against Huysmans

A book of poems is but one  
however-real-it-seems  
beautified distortion of what's happening  
and what’s to be.

A pretty face 
emerges from the sliver of a moon. 
Another rises like a shell from shore.

Election, blastoma, perfection, piranha. 
Hypergiants of the Tarantula nebula!

Look around before it surrounds you.
Love before you start to age. 
Pray before you cease to be.  
Truth will rise/a leaf will fall.

A praying mantis on the edge  
of a crisp red book.

Turtle Soup at Midnight

When a sphinx doesn’t speak  
don’t ask no questions. 
Just awareness  
there are questions to be asked  
will draw scrutiny from mothers guardians spies. 
We see it at our periphery, the fiery End.  
To understand one trains in secret 
perhaps prey for a predator 
perhaps the miracle who survives

wades among the sirens answer with a fierce red scream 
a presentation of sharp innocence 
warped by time as always is resolved  
with comprehensive hands 
at least for a creature who knows its culture  
and orders follow as the ant to theend. [Sic] 
Fuck our minds full of todays

and the tides are coming for us all. 
But though everything is bullshit 
we get up and still make turtle soup at midnight. 

Without a lean awareness of these mysteries  
you are dead in the water. 
With them hope lights a dark place
we are amazed to fall 
so beautifully into.

Fear of Time

The tissues of fate  
moved by wind on April’s balcony  
sweep the hands privately 
and though we cannot island, connected 
to racist rapist thieves 
entitled brutes  
dumb boys dumb women

we find a way to interwind  
like two frogs on a leaf  
and whisper, laugh and laugh  
real happy and real  
sad in the sad extreme:

I am a barrel of gasoline 
deep in the arctic 
its significance unrealized.

I am a flame new to the arctic. 
Soon you will realize.

Monday, January 27, 2020

Chesapeake


We zero in on a refurbished oil rig. 
We smell it is a restaurant. 
Mom says Yes 
we used to come here
before you were born.

As the helicopter is landing
we see the floor covered in crabshells. 
Thousands of crabshells, crabs stuffed with crabs. 
The floor is deep orange, mustard and intestines. 
Piles of crabs come out of the ocean—
even a tarantula has formed on the back of a cook 
like some kind of weird flower. 
A lobster the size of a porpoise

gets shelled before my eyes. Quivers 
like a squid as the butter drips. 
Crabs keep piling up. 

We stay til nightfall 
when the warmth of the water 
is confused with the warmth of the air.

A Bible reading. Then back 
to the trailer 
smell molding in humanity.

Summer, 1960. 
A white blouse smeared with seasoning  
draped my mother’s model form 
and dad was righteous for a time.

Mob

Aristocrats enjoy execution 
so long as the guillotine is gilded.

The blades whirled by good smiths 
charging a fortune in pardons for billion-dollar alloys 
to crack the spine well  
encourage years of craft. 
Some dip theirs in caviar 
others oil with truffles or limited cologne. 
Some are engraved  
with tiny verse 
so the flesh shaved 
is instantly impressed 
with a truth 
or something.

It doesn’t make much goddamn  
sense to me 
and anyway 
I'm just here for the blood.

Final Exam

When the reply finally came 
it was by book.  
She wrote she was an independent-minded woman  
who liked greasy spoons 
maple water, vintage watches

and here I was, laughing at football 
a curiosity and she was curious  
with had no intention of aging.

Upon the balcony my mother asked 
What are you reading?  
I snuck out for a smoke.
There in the courtyard 

next to the very same church 
as the wind kicked in and the boxwoods leaned 
I saw a man made of ink. I moved toward him
and became Marilyn Monroe.

On the balcony, my mother watched with alarm 
and a werewolf dressed as a king 
beside her began jumping for joy. 
The man of ink turned and shot me.
As I lay on the cobblestones bleeding 
I woke up drooling at 10 PM.

Mallarmé

Music in my mind 
sharp and brilliant as the greasy knife 
shaving a day off the sun-- 
music meaningful as water 
or the song still ringing  
when the notes' bare ends 
in a thought afloat in light-- 
stray swan alight in a sunset 
engulfing entirely the moment aspired to 
or a truth not unalike as shrouded.

Most things I was good at making nurses laugh  
the human body's ironies alike we, perceiving 
connected like bone to flesh 
as sure as we were bred to laugh 
identically even if otherwise 
my general confusion 
was now symmetrical with understanding 
The Being Unbeing Itself.

Black Widow

Dark-navy woman with honey-gold eyes-- 
red hourglass on her ass.
Her blueberries drip 
opal milk on the indigo fuzz  
of her opengold lush  
flower disturbs the peace.

I licked it from her abdomen like a dragonfly  
by softened leaves  
and a strong odor  
unafraid to drink  
evermore complex nectar.

One night I held this woman  
in the palm of my hand. 
Misled I let her go. 

Matt's Fantasy

A ‘59 trip  
in an Eldorado Biarritz  
up the California coast-- 
only the finest Mexican food  
the freshest vegetables  
the most properly aged cheeses 
the finest sunset 
rolling in the sands  
with Catherine Deneuve.

The Owl

Come morning he hoots  
and no one understands:

A Rolls Royce helicopter  
makes mandalas upon the waves. 
A congress of octopi  
lets the hurricane move in.  
Can I sleep in your basement tonight?

A marginal figure.  
Existing by chance  
in destitution 
or very structured homes. 
Migratory  jobs are the norm.  
Average enough  to pass for riffraff 
his commune with ghosts 
is soon detected by psychiatrists  
who abandon him, untreatable 
resistant, perhaps unrecoverable 
perhaps just ok.

Such a woman driving home 
tries not to hit a homeless woman 
knowing she could be dodging traffic next--
accused of child neglect 
burnt at the stake. Drugs take her sometimes. 
Sometimes she takes herself. 
It wasn’t always this way. 
It won’t always be again.

The owl sleeps with many thoughts  
including yours.
Its dreams are all of daylight
and nights an unfettered flight
to a site where the wind 
lets voices good and disturbed
from one world into this one.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

George Fucking Washington

It is difficult for truth to be untrue. 
Some would say impossible  
but my door is open
should you find some dark miracle
against the nature
that one plus one is two. 
Truth is true.
Most people who dispute this 
are confused. 
They see exceptions everywhere
and by some damaged logic
to them I am a platypus.

The truth is true 
or it would cease to be the truth. 
This is evident 
to one who follows the argument.
Most can't. They love slave
and master, playing the aristocrat
who can insult your children
or the tyrant to represent you with a curse.

Lies, extrapolations, conspiracy
shifting sands, twisted theories
bullrush, false equiv, denial
powerful order and countermand
the evidence we hate each other
and our histories will clash
because you know, I said. 

I am fortunate.
I speak first. 
When you judge me  
against who comes last
bear in mind the truth is true
when you get confused.
It sounds so simple
it must surely be untrue.

But everywhere as light without enemy
and sure as sky turns blue 
one plus one equals two. 
Sun rise tomorrow.
Like a compass or a good book
take heart and reset 
to judge with clear eyes. 

Noctambulism

Under a window dripping a piano song 
the queen is there 
Blackmail, her bedroom next 
kill her consort with a dart 
hide in the woods with scarf and bandana 
There is no bathroom in the house-What house? 
The calling card says Fine Birds 
and the unsuspecting 
to an end, we think 
but not me 
A cave deep in time 
and a crescent-blazing light 
Sorry you can repeat that No

There comes a time  
when your ability to appreciate sensation dies 
and you are fueled exclusively by shark appetite 
a thirst for continuance 
and your life becomes a slice of lava pie 
hot and unformed as when you wake in the night 
and dreams like these are dripping 
and you’re not quite out of them yet 
despite the fact a child is obviously crying 
or a cat is sticking her paw in your face.

Dusk Chillout

Summer silence drops like cool water 
tilting stars that spill more light on me. 
Thunder and cicada
fill October's empty trees with sonata 
and a splash of sun in twilight wine. 

Inside homes abandoned to a television light 
perfusing softly the night's many flaws 
a couple go through the motions 
and the houseplants keep expelling  
air to poison.

When was the honey thicker?  
The sea clean? Was it better?

Or was that just a dream-- a legend no artist  
can at loose ends with reality make dovetail at dusk.
----------------------------------------------

Tragic family never anything
and now fewer birds in the sky
time itself flakes from away the memories 
for those upon the planet 
orbiting, as punishment 
til one day or another 
can't be remembered, and Time itself is done.

I lose the streets among the suburbs 
and end up at a stranger's home.

Years becoming suggestions.

The First Man

The first night the first man 
tried hard to stay awake 
because he thought he should keep moving. 

The last night the last man 
tried hard to fall asleep 
because he knew he would shit himself soon.

Arcadia

The backstory runs as the young and lustful do 
treasure desire in a whirlwind of rubies 
full of Ferraris burning toward fantastic futures 
I heard the hairbands tell me Rock on. 

At a train show under the fireworks 
in a village south of here 
I took a Ferris wheel to the moon 
and thought I’d live forever. 
The Bible folded  like a dead dove in my briefcase. 

No longer river I was nothing but sea. 
A fly trapped in an airport. Pick a metaphor, a simile
symbolic of something so profound 
the rationale’s a politician 
betraying slivers of the truth.

Excited—too excited 
to play philosopher with existential games 
to drink cognac with Vivaldi 
pretend I understood Spinoza 
shut off from all but the strangest of men

I took off the clothes of the Superanimal 
and was scared to death by what I saw.

King Solomon, for My Father

I was a witty child and had received a good soul. 
For I also was my father's son tender and as an only son  in the sight of my mother.

Incline thy ear to my prudence. 
I will shew thee the way of wisdom. 
I will lead thee by the paths of equity.

Choose knowledge rather than gold. Her ways 
are beautiful ways and all her paths are peaceable.
The desire of wisdom  
bringeth to the everlasting kingdom.  

Wisdom opened the mouth of the dumb 
and made the tongues of infants eloquent.

One is as it were rich when he hath nothing. 
It is better to be humbled with the meek 
than to divide spoils with the proud.

When thy enemy shall fall, be not glad 
and in his ruin let not thy heart rejoice. 
A joyful mind maketh age flourishing.  
A sorrowful spirit drieth up the bones.

I love them that love me 
and they that in the early morning 
watch for me shall find me.

The Lord possessed me  
in the beginning of his ways 
before he made anything. 
I was with him forming all things 
and was delighted every day 
playing before him at all times.

The steps of man are guided by the Lord. 
But who is the man  that can understand his own way? 
For all men have one entrance into life 
and the like going out.

The meadows are open and the green herbs have appeared
and the hay is gathered out of the mountains. 

If thou sleep, thou shalt not fear
thou shalt rest
and thy sleep shall be sweet.

Corruptomundo!

Stop 1: The streets are on fire and the people are sweating in supermarket trolleys. Collect 45,000,000

Stop 2: You compare the United States to an angry mama bear. Various groups protest. Collect 5,000,000

Stop 3: You put rocket launchers in the hands of children. Millions of lives are saved. Collect NRA pass

Stop 4: Bubblegum-flavored peanut butter is a hit. Collect 7,000,000

Stop 5: A group of militiamen has deemed you the Archfiend of Mammon in a promotional pamphlet. Liberal media becomes infatuated. Collect 19,000,000

Stop 6: You avoided war but thousands of lives were lost. No one respects you. Collect 1,000,000 Alternative: You went ballistic. Now the people want blood. Collect 1,000,000 
Alternative: You thread the needle perfectly. The universe adores. Collect 2,000,000 

Stop 7: Your taxes are due. Collect 20,000,000

Stop 8: Other people can’t get mad at you for your success. Collect 6,000,000

Stop 9: You find the cure for cancer causes cancer. Collect 25,000,000

Stop 10: You lose all equilibrium in a skiing accident at an undisclosed mountain range. Win a free talk show.

Stop 11: You are controlling member of a nanny torture ring. Government post denied. Collect 45,000,000

Stop 12: The AFL-CIO has tapped your phones. Spin again.

Stop 13: 42% of Americans support new slogan, ME = MC2. Collect 9,000,000

Stop 14: You find a bag of coins under a python at the zoo. Time magazine calls you Human of the Year. Collect 6,000,000

Stop 15: Your BMW is implicated in a sex scandal. Collect 4,000,000

Stop 16: Kate Moss, Vishnu, and an octopus approach you about a time share in St. Martin. You become Viagra pitchman for a fiscal year. Collect 20,000,000

Stop 17: Your sixth wife wants all your money. Collect 10,000,000

Stop 17.5: You repeat that thing of where Axl Rose told Kurt Cobain Tell your bitch to shut up. And Kurt Cobain turned to Courtney Love and said Bitch, shut up. You do this for Bonus Points if you know what I'm talking about. See Instructions 35.C

Stop 18: It’s time to get back to basics. You create an affordable electric hybrid that everyone wants. Collect 7,000,000

Stop 19: You become an outsized celebrity ice sculptor with a methadone problem and a stable full of wild bears. Collect 10,000,000

Stop 20: Effigies of you are burning in the streets. Immediate image makeover is a success. Collect 4,000,000

Stop 21: You enter rehab for fellatio addiction. Collect 20,000,000

Stop 22: People say that nothing works. The rapist and the racist carve up the spoils. The temperature is rising. Collect 50,000,000

Stop 23: You're at the end and it isn't funny anymore.

Stop 24: Atlantis rises. New markets form. Pick a car and circle the board.

Monday, January 20, 2020

Sustainable Fine Dining

The questioning host flows
her white Buddhist gown
past plates of hamachi. 
Trump and Soleimani 
sat by firelight
a one-breasted queen
appraising the room. 

Among gangstas the streets never mean 
quite the same shit.
Nerves already on edge
the darklight of a Capricorn birthday
menacing acid to begin.
Glaring drivers’ eyes say
Dragon marrow: $Your life
(Thus…thusly…isthathowyousayit?)
with money in my throat I sit down
to a menu 25 fucking pages long.
Wild boar was on the menu
hunks of lobster genetically enhanced 
lettuce washed by salmonella rain.
Elk guts. Bison nuggets.
Excellent choice*.

Like many of us
I vomit prime rib and ferns
gut clenched by a bitter beast
that lives in the night-gone-bad.

Around the fireplace, sand—
the scratch of sandpiper feet
becomes a battle map
with buried bones
as if that helps the fact
I'm bleeding out this time.

And see? The end of the hour 
has brought cute couples in to watch me die.
Never again will I wish for more history.
Do not think poisoning 
is easier than torture
or slow decay.

Minority rules treason house arrest. 
This restaurant fooking sooks!

Trump has disappeared into a motorcade.
Soleimani is just a few chunks on the marble.

The questioning host flows her white gowns.
when someone shouts aloud and truly 
This venison is something else!




*I ordered the rockfish.
The waiter said Excellent choice.
I said Well how is the moose?
I was actually considering that too.
An excellent choice.
I tried to joke
Well how about the porterhouse?
He replied Excellent choice.
I was like What on here isn’t an excellent choice?
and shoved the menu in the air.
What about the duck egg quiche. 
The oysters Rockefeller.
Ah, excellent choices, all, sir.

I said Ok look you, stop all this pandering
and find me something here that isn’t an excellent choice.
I don’t even want anything good anymore.
Just get me something, the worst thing here.
That’s what I want. Jesus! Quail, 
the quail with fig and chantarelles.
How’s that one?
Very stern he told me
That will not be an excellent choice.
I said Good, give me that.

Another couple came in minutes later.
The man ordered the quail with chantarelles.
Same waiter.
Excellent choice.

The Account

Blackbeard died of eighteen holes and fourteen wives 
a stint as a lumberjack  
and no regrets he knew the Devil.

Bart Roberts ran aground 
got shot in the throat. 
His endless conquest launched his own. 
He hid his blood  in crimson damask  
and the cries of burnt slaves.

Black Caesar wasn't going back. 
He took Florida, Europe, the hurricanes. 
Starved his harem. Chieftain to the end.

Stede Bonnet was a coward. He paid for his crimes
like a fool. Not before begging  
to self-amputate for clemency.

If you were too happy Edward Lowe cut off parts of your face  
roasted and fed them to you. 
No one knows what happened to him.

The best Anne Bonny could do was fuck  
the dog she was dumb enough to understand 
and pregnant enough to not die for. 
She disappeared. There were whorehouses.

Kidd was nothing special.  
Weak leader. Political tool. 
Left behind treasure neverthere.  
Even murder couldn’t hide  
his lack of command.

Henry Morgan went of dropsy late nights, and rum 
like many governors.  
He barbecued the the innocent. Amen.

The hourglass goes empty fast.

Portrait of a Young Sailor's Wife by Anonymous

No one signed his name to me. 
I come with no name at all. 
They say I am a young sailor’s wife. 
But I was a little girl before 
who knew the men without names on the waves 
and the wife with no man who comes back.

A woman with this smile endures. 
Mona Lisa, yes, she was beautiful   
but I have different stories.

You learn them when you are less lovely 
grow up with cold salt in the air 
and the smell of fish and fire all around.

No one signed his name to me. 
No one can without the urge to run away.