Saturday, June 11, 2005

[in progress iv]

     Somewhere they’re giving up the search
for chemical depots or stockpiled pikes and
halberds. Somewhere the clouds have squatted
     down over our heads like a copulent ploughman
           taking a midday dump. Like, really,
           no kidding, man? The gear and wheels
     are binding in an alarming mechanical
           obligatto. Humming in my ears. And so
     are we who are astonished to be loved.
Put it in park to remove the key.

           This one runs like a scalded
dawg! but the heat will bake your brains
right in your head. Don’t sit there, Margaret,
     if you want to pee go back to your
     own damned room. Cash or checks
only No Credit cards No Debit. And bake
           the green out of those beans
     on the steam table. If you bread
           and fry it, he’ll eat the sole
of a fucking shoe. And ask for seconds.

They grumble in the line at the deli counter:
     one half-pound of smoked turkey – smoked,
     you whoreson knave! No chance
           of a revolution happening here,
     and when it does we’ll stay out
of its way. Smeared gravel and asphalt.
     Yesterday pink (the dead possum) today
           a stomach-turning pinky-
grey. Dodge the lightning bolts falling
     like pitchforks from a sun-powdered
           sky. Not my president baseball cap.

on the earbuds:
Big Star, #1 Record
Henry Cow, Concerts

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