Titles but no poems.
This may call for some kind of drastic action, come (what they call) the new year (same minutes, same order in my small town).
And so began the Great Heist of 2013 . . .
You've been warned.
Happy New Year.
Cc: File, Col. Flotsam, St. Joseph
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
THE DOGS OF GENDER (poems)
Call To Arms (To An Earthly Sufferer of No Love) /1
Shyku /4
An Eye For Emily /35
A Real Arrow Through The Head Helps Imagine One /37
Three Steps Towards Better Management (Of The Knife) /39
Cosmetics /40
Notes From The Attic Well /41
Greeks Die /42
Felidae Mysterium /43
Some Thoughts On Soft Trade /44
The Artist /45
Lucky Fodder /46
Oblivians /47
Voyage To Marsupia /48
Bonne Venu /49
Salvation Mirror /50
I Heart /51
A Woman Better /52
The Fat Chick /54
Erogenous Bones /55
Ars Amatoria /56
All Tomorrow's Bodies /57
The Largest Art /58
Yuppies /60
The Great Slave /62
The Old Deal (For Fountain) /63
Spontaneous Tick /64
Maths /65
Gerontocracy /66
Waking Irish /67
Soft Go The Lepers Past Glory /68
Lincoln /70
Strip Notes /71
Nata /72
Posterity: The Biopsy /73
Waiting For The Civilized /75
The Last Line Is The Wild of This One /77
Far Or Near /78
The Lifer /79
OLD GIRL (stories)
pG /1
Possession /6
A Wild One /22
The Man Who Makes Ghosts /27
Atown /33
Still Life With Shona /40
Keepers /57
One Red Horn /59
October The Elder /72
A Necessary Function /74
Killers /75
Old Girl /77
Lucida /79
Snows From The Deep /81
Men of Shively /82
Old Hallows /84
The Second Sister /87
Moving Water /90
Faceless /93
A Mother's Daughter /95
With Maggie /120
The Selected Pests of Mao Zedong /124
For Dead /129
NIGHT IN THE SUN (poems)
Weldaghost /1
An Occurrence In Dead City /5
Gothko /8
Profession /9
Auto-Da-Fe (For Holly) /11
Short Bit, Young Money /14
Lao Tzu In German /15
Big Beer /17
Lack Toes /19
Night In The Sun /20
Chikurubi /23
Xateros /27
The Head of Zumbi /28
Land of Plenty /29
The Amazon /30
Feral To The Wiser /31
Sin Vivo /32
S.O.L. /34
Tiny Samadhi /35
Mun Man /36
Survival Is A Gothic Thing /38
Mangelina /39
The Pope of Morgues /40
The Five Senses /43
Porchtripper /49
The Earlene of Our Dreams /51
One Skilled In Care Would Let Be /53
No After /55
Two Paintings Two Men /57
John Elena McGrady /59
The Full F /61
Mascot Of The Floating World /63
Outs /65
J.G. Will Say It /67
Stadistics /68
The World Stable /70
A Dracula For Marechera /73
Svilva /77
Youngblood Eternal /79
Drawing /81
Spare Change (In The American Colony) /83
Little Factor /84
1.27.45 /85
The Selected Pests of Mao Zedong /86
Pineal Man /89
Mutiny In Heaven /91
Friday, December 21, 2012
QA
Q. You've worked 11 out of the last 12 days, eleven hours a piece. How's that feel?
A. Like someone pulling all of America out of my nose.
Q. And what's the most amazing thing about that.
A. That I wasn't even pulling the longest hours. Brettney worked all 12 and about as many each one. Jesus, she lived and breathed the place.
Q. What does Brettney look like?
A. Like a mom.
Q. What does she drink after work?
A. Old wine.
Q. What's her laugh sound like?
A. Like Christ, if he ever actually had a job.
Q. Wasn't he a carpenter, though?
A. Nope, just a carpenter's son.
Q. And Brettney?
A. She was no mother's son. She was what rich people call a Working Woman.
Q. Do you feel very Springsteen right now?
A. I do.
Q. Does Bruce help get you through?
A. I know he's just the sound of this thing, but yeah, he do.
Q. What're you going to do tonight now that you're off work?
A. I plan to live poems.
Q. You're about the age where people call you Full Grown, a Man, even.
A. I am.
Q. So what's with the poems?
A. Because a Man's just where I end. Not even the beginning, the short straw of where I'm getting.
Q. And where's that.
A. Heaven beyond bourbon on earth.
Q. And what do you think of those other tenured types, or at least most of them?
A. They don't smoke like life. There's not much Brettany in their poems.
Q. And in yours?
A. I hope so.
Q. And why's that?
A. Because she's stronger than a ghost.
Q. How so?
A. She's never heard of France or Freud but has the strongest faith in football, and once, drunk, she ran her car right up on her baby-daddy's porch.
Q. And what did the boss say when she announced that, loud and proud, before everyone?
A. "Stay classy."
Q. And did he say that out of love?
A. Of course not.
Q. And will you say it, out of love?
A. All the way to the parking lot.
Q. And is the spirit that flows through you the greatest ocean on earth?
A. Neither Atlantic or Pacific, but five foot one, shy, with leg braces, yes, I know.
Q. Is it sweet to be of that spirit?
A. Always. Out of its mouth I'm each and every day full grown.
Q. And do you have any regrets?
A. As long as I am kept a kind secret in the good bosom food of the spirit, no.
Q. How many billion people do you think are in it?
A. As many as there are cells in the moment.
Q. Every one coming and going in you?
A. Yup, in and out of me. Great Spirit comes and goes.
Q. I always pegged you for a dark tint, but now you're mind's all open. What's that about?
A. Oh, that heavy stuff is just counterweight to keep pushing up the good stuff.
Q. Which is?
A. Oh, man, if you're here asking, you know.
A. Like someone pulling all of America out of my nose.
Q. And what's the most amazing thing about that.
A. That I wasn't even pulling the longest hours. Brettney worked all 12 and about as many each one. Jesus, she lived and breathed the place.
Q. What does Brettney look like?
A. Like a mom.
Q. What does she drink after work?
A. Old wine.
Q. What's her laugh sound like?
A. Like Christ, if he ever actually had a job.
Q. Wasn't he a carpenter, though?
A. Nope, just a carpenter's son.
Q. And Brettney?
A. She was no mother's son. She was what rich people call a Working Woman.
Q. Do you feel very Springsteen right now?
A. I do.
Q. Does Bruce help get you through?
A. I know he's just the sound of this thing, but yeah, he do.
Q. What're you going to do tonight now that you're off work?
A. I plan to live poems.
Q. You're about the age where people call you Full Grown, a Man, even.
A. I am.
Q. So what's with the poems?
A. Because a Man's just where I end. Not even the beginning, the short straw of where I'm getting.
Q. And where's that.
A. Heaven beyond bourbon on earth.
Q. And what do you think of those other tenured types, or at least most of them?
A. They don't smoke like life. There's not much Brettany in their poems.
Q. And in yours?
A. I hope so.
Q. And why's that?
A. Because she's stronger than a ghost.
Q. How so?
A. She's never heard of France or Freud but has the strongest faith in football, and once, drunk, she ran her car right up on her baby-daddy's porch.
Q. And what did the boss say when she announced that, loud and proud, before everyone?
A. "Stay classy."
Q. And did he say that out of love?
A. Of course not.
Q. And will you say it, out of love?
A. All the way to the parking lot.
Q. And is the spirit that flows through you the greatest ocean on earth?
A. Neither Atlantic or Pacific, but five foot one, shy, with leg braces, yes, I know.
Q. Is it sweet to be of that spirit?
A. Always. Out of its mouth I'm each and every day full grown.
Q. And do you have any regrets?
A. As long as I am kept a kind secret in the good bosom food of the spirit, no.
Q. How many billion people do you think are in it?
A. As many as there are cells in the moment.
Q. Every one coming and going in you?
A. Yup, in and out of me. Great Spirit comes and goes.
Q. I always pegged you for a dark tint, but now you're mind's all open. What's that about?
A. Oh, that heavy stuff is just counterweight to keep pushing up the good stuff.
Q. Which is?
A. Oh, man, if you're here asking, you know.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
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