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1983-2015
tearing the rag off the bush again
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solitude+love

resting quietly i expose myself in the grocery store isle to christians who make me uncomfortable and listen and hear nobody only the wind through the leaves in the evening i think of crab cakes the wood the pensive hill the rippling nipple the rude step the throbbing again to the couch alone Lewis engulfed succumbs no more running and cheap excitement for Alice asks which century was profoundly erotic my swing is where i go it is wordless living in a tub on the side of a hill even the beggars scoff have you seen Emily...

 

 

elvis+love

i can't believe people are still listening to his music he sucks he's not dead he's at home at graceland hiding in the bathroom eating and grazing turnips i think he's wearing an afro wig whose he think he's fooling pretty lame he's bound to be in every town NOW in the hotel lobby he does a salsa number HEY that's not him that's some big fat ugly guy i hear caffeine popsicles help relieve his constipation that's not true that's one of those conspiracy theories actually under it all he longs for a picture of himself completely plump a blue christmas ornament hiding his private part...

 

 

7+lucky+love

a scrawny cry from outside the perimeter it's Monday six a.m. and the steam rolling starts the racial elites conspiratorial romp over the airways like snow battered owls misleading the currencies of fate on Tuesday they order rubbish clean up and extravagant seizures kink is better when the companion is serviceable they shout at us over the public loudspeaker on Wednesday i bow in submission like a weariness handbook like a parrot stalking the status quo like an ensemble of high- minded priests hiccupping along the trail of the irrational on Thursday behind our backs high- jinx at the eleventh hour hushed soldier colonizations fed by psuedo-celibate old goats accelerate our variance on Friday they convince us that confinement is more memorable with hash browns on Saturday i flatter myself and marry a fool on Sunday a scattering of blue teeth the white sky chatters chitter chatter chitter chatter all the way home bamboo fire purple tulip in spring i think of you...

 

 

waiting+love

feels like dissonance it's raining on a string knocking at the door no thank you i don't want more opium than Thailand instead blow the whistle fill the pipe and tell me the story that will result in the life of ages thank you...

 

 

anthropology+love

i made an apology to the ants whom i had only anecdotal knowledge about so sorry so sorry i explained to the ants i misinterpreted your secret coded messages for sand when you alone in the desert desired water sorry so sorry...

 

 

death+love

when you arrive in my country on a dark street with all your drugs and nothing to do but walk down the main street towards the zocalo we will pantomime meaning to get meaning across to you it will be exhausting the black smog in the open market looking for a place to eat we find a side alley filled with smoke the smell of human flesh carne asada and chorizo on the grill looking out over the ruins spread across the mountaintops it's true the losers were murdered but the murals are beautiful and the skulls are made of sugar and coffee and beer and weed to drink and smoke on your long journey to and from the afterlife god will protect you when others try to exploit you burn the incense and eat the bread all the ingredients are assembled now place the fruit and plates and candles and flower petals for the souls to follow you home it will be beautiful we can't wait...

 

 

brand new+love

hey it's me i'm thinking about yr feeble wiener while i play with myself after sniffing too much anthrax i thought you said it was x it doesn't matter now you can take back Sunday my family my friends my saliva everything you set us up for a textbook tragedy the ultimate dismemberment plan imagine my blood spattered head on the dashboard with your cozy toes in my pink muff while the death cab waits outside in the freezing cold people say we made a nice couple but just cause i wore chucks and hot pink dickie capris with my hot pink studded belt didn't mean i was punk and just cause i shaved my pubes and snored while you fucked me didn't mean i liked fucking you once i'm gone you'll realize there is no one else like me and you'll miss me and my not authentic gucci medium shoulder bag and my winnie the pooh quilt i'm looking at myself right now in my new expanding bathroom mirror and i've decided to move on to something else and you can't stop me did you think you could bounce me keep me out of the sun i owned your face which is weird cause it kind of smelled and made me feel sick when you failed the lie detector test i imagined killing you i had a bullet for you with for my valentine written on it i always thought we could've spent the rest of our lives together or at least until the time when nothing mattered you know you are always on my mind and god bless the broken road that led me to you that's bullshit all of it fuck you don't you just love a parade look don't worry about me i'm walking away a winner by the way you can have my blue outdoor summer patio chair and lounger i know you always liked it i'm sitting in it right now staring directly at the sun thinking about the nine infants we'll never have about the hot wheel cars unopened in the box in the attic still in perfect working order i just swallowed the reindeer wrist rattle toy can you hear me choking on it and oh you can have my pink lip gloss and brand new make-up bag too i won't be needing it you can use it for a stocking stuffer this christmas if you want okay i'm hooking up the dual shock pad now ciao your slave kat...

New Orleans is a mess. People sweep the clutter (culture) from the streets...It sleeps after a night of howling, speaking-in-tounges, dancing to drums; watching strange lights streak across the sky. The streets are littered with bodies where its victims lie until the next burgeoning. One doesn't know when it will hit again. The next 5 minutes? 3 days from now? 20 years?-

Ishmael Reed from Mumbo Jumbo, 1972

* death+love was previously published in Unlikely Stories 2.0 edited by Jonathan Penton

* brand-new+love was previously published in a New Yipes Reader edited by Bruce Andrews

 
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