than usual

There is nothing in the air between stones and clouds
Astounded insects praise mumblings of the wind unfit for sustenance
All our bogus ancestors failed in measuring the distance
Between the footprints of the sun and couldn’t recognize
Anything familiar in their shapes
So fuck them with their fire trucks lawn mowers rustling cornfields and buried treasures
There are towns and towns and towns where no one
Has ever seen a $22 bill where no one is
Able to turn a scarecrow even into a golem

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9 thoughts on “than usual

  1. IS IT TRUE THAT YOUR READERS ARE EITHER
    MISLED OR WARNED OFF ?
    the Sphinx guards each $22 bill
    top secret and kept out of sight
    you go to towns and towns
    and listen to musicians
    towns where the common folk cannot afford vanilla
    when you symbolize vanilla they think you practice magic
    you wear funny hats
    and blow whistles
    you are white
    but you find music chocolate
    …………..the layered secrets behind your face
    like black birds in a pie awaiting retrieval
    valentines in your pocket
    with a private language of ciphers
    your thoughts in a twisted knot
    tell-tale and male

    Like

  2. dear boy, when we were just infants
    we drank milk straight from a Sphinx
    your Sphinx spoke some kind of gibberish
    and smelled like cabbage and fried eggs
    my Sphinx was from Canada and confused
    about gender and which bathroom to use
    remember the smell of sweat
    from under the bodily container ?
    HOT milk squirting in your mouth
    milk from a home-grown source
    milk that gave you manly aggressiveness
    as spinach to Popeye
    (hush-hush about the psychological damage)

    Like

    • that’s a new one on me
      i wouldn’t believe even if you told me about a sphinx full of wine
      cocteau’s sphinx would have looked especially funny feeding infants

      Like

  3. PRIVATE CHATTER ABOUT THE SPHINX
    PLEASE DO NOT DIRTY HER IMAGE
    —————-granted there be a library of guilt
    no one steals from the library of guilt
    a nightly chorus of men
    crazy musical numbers
    about “forgive me mother”
    bowdlerized memories
    emotions are a by-product
    of tight underwear
    or no underwear
    Sacher-Masoch
    witch doctoring
    a $22 bill if you make nice
    seed as big as puffed rice
    ———you on your divan afloat
    only I am brave enough
    to make mention of your frilly clouds

    Like

  4. yes way
    the ink on the Ph.D. degree still wet
    as a literary agent you may be absent from the home
    the care and feeding of the family
    you may not even know the name of the pet
    asking questions is a sign of weakness
    short answers—nothing polite
    land a poem on the best-seller list

    Like

  5. your photo in the local paper
    decorated with a yellow high-lighter
    notorious
    white boy
    poetry about unwarranted pain inflicted
    abductions and chicken wire enclosures
    textual errors—misprints—duct tape
    poetic imagination
    too often invalid
    ——————————poetic factory work
    has moved elsewhere
    oppressive employment
    the lack of adequate language
    ——————————readers afraid to scream
    “Robert Frost is not almost a crime
    Robert Frost is a crime”

    Like

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