Friday, January 27, 2012

a CRUX a KLUX some CLIQUES



Give me one full ridicule example
using the regular baby as a bar.
Give me a newborn reflex action.
Give me a pregnancy AND a baby.
Give me one regular with grief
and one regular hold the grief.
Extra reflexes on both.
And one medium soft target.
And one water, no cup.

Grief is really just relief with a g
where the l used to be. Or closer.
Or less close.
And some redeployment.
The hilarious phases of pain.
Phase of the moon as the shape
of the elegant burn on your calf.
Happy Reenactment Day, baby.
Name your pie.

I took the Ell once.
It was in Chicago.
They made me give it back.

I threw out my back in Chicago.
It was opening day.
The ball never reached the plate.
The spork was on permanent backorder.

When I swapped the New York City skyline
for a sandwich sliced like dinosaur teeth
everybody died. Not the least being me.
The least being all of the senseless fucking
dinosaurs at once. Who saw that coming?
Kraft?

When you say you are willing
to give your life do you mean
the kind of thing that men are
afraid or ashamed to do openly,
and by day? How much are you
asking for the histories?
The ones that are over
on that table by the hose reel.
Which do you think suits me best? The green?
Will you take less?

Jesus said “Let the least of you
dinosaurs come unto me.
I’ve got the only ball. It’s my mother
scratching party now.”
That was back in the summer of ’65.
Whichever hundred and sixty five.
Later he revised his position.
More sandwiches for the crew.
Fewer fossils per capita.

So, aside from everything else, Mrs. Lincoln
MKZ, how do you like Detroit?

There goes that slow, exquisite build.
The ball moves faster than the heart.

They buried him then hung him next day.
He got himself hung however.
Does the order of events, ultimately,
have any impact on the events themselves?
Did The Great One need that last goal?
If his supermodel wife were to die
of a mysterious kitchen utensil
tomorrow would he need another?
Would he shave?

Here comes the show down.
The beating faster heart gives up
entirely before it’s reduced to a lousy
recessive pulse in an identical
though somewhat smaller scaled shaft.

I won one off of Kevin Grabasski at recess.
Was he pissed.

The distortion, the machine
that produces the sole
supply of large jungle cats.
The distortion is in fact
an intentional distraction
from the gathering moisture
on your thigh. I still love that one.
It hurt me so I couldn’t forget a thing.
Similar in style to the split between
tracks that were originally joined
in memory, divided
by trains, then by numbers
in a list, then by whatever
you say next.

I remember this song as the first song
of the best show I’ve ever
died a thousand times.

By this time next year sex will
have become all you ever needed.

I always try too hard, like a blue reindeer.
Like a lone blue reindeer in JANUARY.

Remember Janet Jackson’s titty
holding court? The only manmade thing
you can see from space?

Now we talk in terms
of orchestral arrangements
of various inedible geniuses.

No, we don’t.
We don’t talk at all.
Not at all.
We just repeat what he said.

A smile, is it? A record
shattering dry spell
with only a classic iPod
to loosely date this moment
of dreamy
catastrophe.

There was, seriously, nothing
funny about that first date.
It was perfectly quiet.
We had carrots.
We spoke via body language.
Now I no longer know
which season is longer,
the snow season
or the season
with the missing snow.

I’m still quoting lyrics
to try to win a woman’s affection
or win a man’s rejection of a woman
affecting an attitude of musicality
in an upward firing bat tornado.
Neither one makes sufficiently
little sense.

Do you think you’re a dinosaur?
Do you think I am in need of assistance?
Just because I am saying goodbye
with my mouth while my words are
saying play me some loopy fiasco?

Their sense of dusk is uncanny.
That bridge is the last thing standing
between us and them. Between this
lunch and some sort of duck embryo
delicacy you might find
in the back pocket of any seven year old
attached to her rising market share
by a neo-classic iPod.

I have a new girlfriend I’d like you to
be. Stay right here, I’ll bring her over.