You and me—baby, we
go together
just like—
parts and labor!
By which,
I guess I mean—mostly
that
one of us
does all the talking—and the other,
all the driving;
and—regardless of whether
most people
know it or not—one of us
is always covering
the total cost—
of both.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
LIKE SPIDERS IN YOUR MOUTH
When writing—
don't ever consider. Move quickly
and swing, using gravity
never to suspend
but merely as a pendulum
would—to generate
sheer momentum.
For truly,
quickness is your only
shot at honesty—and honesty
completely necessary;
all thought being pure—hesitation,
and all hesitation—pretty
disgusting when you stop to think about it.
don't ever consider. Move quickly
and swing, using gravity
never to suspend
but merely as a pendulum
would—to generate
sheer momentum.
For truly,
quickness is your only
shot at honesty—and honesty
completely necessary;
all thought being pure—hesitation,
and all hesitation—pretty
disgusting when you stop to think about it.
Monday, March 30, 2015
AMERICAN APPAREL ADVERTISEMENT
Not yet in time—in the still moment
before moments,
before heartbeats, before melody,
even before any such
face as you may
have later read about
dared to break the stillness and move
upon the surface
of silent slumbering waters;
enter—
the very first light of creation—
curiously
mottled, not pure
white, in fact
still fairly heather
and slightly green with pale cold
from that timeless winter's night before,
but nevertheless
blushing with just enough
promise of the proximate season
that its faint kiss,
imbued as it is
with just the right kind
of slight warmth
so as to gently begin motivating each wave
to awaken;
in turn causes—
our face
to first crane, and then
to bend its very
good
fitting v-neck in benediction.
before moments,
before heartbeats, before melody,
even before any such
face as you may
have later read about
dared to break the stillness and move
upon the surface
of silent slumbering waters;
enter—
the very first light of creation—
curiously
mottled, not pure
white, in fact
still fairly heather
and slightly green with pale cold
from that timeless winter's night before,
but nevertheless
blushing with just enough
promise of the proximate season
that its faint kiss,
imbued as it is
with just the right kind
of slight warmth
so as to gently begin motivating each wave
to awaken;
in turn causes—
our face
to first crane, and then
to bend its very
good
fitting v-neck in benediction.
Friday, March 27, 2015
SUPERIMPOSITION
Walking looking
so pale under arches—
cold and long past
window after
window—I notice I've
become the silent
witness—to
my own
translucent
reflection gradually
beginning to brighten and
fill-in again;
not through its
participation—but more
surely through being
imbued—
with each passing
streak of of their
variously
orange and
yellowish faces—
each one of them
hunkered-
down low in a tall booth—and each one
of them hunched
so wonderfully
warm and greedy—over its own
furiously
red-
napkin blotted
tray
of solid-
golden food.
so pale under arches—
cold and long past
window after
window—I notice I've
become the silent
witness—to
my own
translucent
reflection gradually
beginning to brighten and
fill-in again;
not through its
participation—but more
surely through being
imbued—
with each passing
streak of of their
variously
orange and
yellowish faces—
each one of them
hunkered-
down low in a tall booth—and each one
of them hunched
so wonderfully
warm and greedy—over its own
furiously
red-
napkin blotted
tray
of solid-
golden food.
SMALL COFFEE $1.80
Not exactly
lagging for want
of protection
of some patron saint
so much as
a few presidents'
mild faces—or better
still,
a fine-
arts patron;
and longing,
all-
along to be lured—maybe
by
dayjob wolfhound quicksniffing—
squirrel trail,
to flowerbed pissdrizzle,
to the simplest
smell—of
sun warmed wood,
then here—
off the boulevard,
not to mere
dross pennies,
but gleaming
dimes and fresh
nickels in the birdbath;
thereupon,
suddenly
starts a mossy
uvula swelling
and jangling—'til over-
whelming-
ly it's—
glory glory glory!
Oh glory be
to God?, maybe
but victory—
to me.
lagging for want
of protection
of some patron saint
so much as
a few presidents'
mild faces—or better
still,
a fine-
arts patron;
and longing,
all-
along to be lured—maybe
by
dayjob wolfhound quicksniffing—
squirrel trail,
to flowerbed pissdrizzle,
to the simplest
smell—of
sun warmed wood,
then here—
off the boulevard,
not to mere
dross pennies,
but gleaming
dimes and fresh
nickels in the birdbath;
thereupon,
suddenly
starts a mossy
uvula swelling
and jangling—'til over-
whelming-
ly it's—
glory glory glory!
Oh glory be
to God?, maybe
but victory—
to me.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
SOUND AS VISION
No sooner awake
than were
his ears suddenly—pierced to feel
warmed strangely!
by
the delirious cry—of a lone gull
doubtless startled
but
by turns—elated
and crowing—perhaps
to her lagging and
dappled companions—regarding
reasonably—
the smell
of fecund alley trash;
which, by now—must be!
rising in tandem
with that invisible weight
of the world's
nearest kind
preposterous yellow star—in radiant plumes
not yet
of warm—but of milder
cold air,
each one
just quietly
exhausting—the tired
premise of another
endless winter.
than were
his ears suddenly—pierced to feel
warmed strangely!
by
the delirious cry—of a lone gull
doubtless startled
but
by turns—elated
and crowing—perhaps
to her lagging and
dappled companions—regarding
reasonably—
the smell
of fecund alley trash;
which, by now—must be!
rising in tandem
with that invisible weight
of the world's
nearest kind
preposterous yellow star—in radiant plumes
not yet
of warm—but of milder
cold air,
each one
just quietly
exhausting—the tired
premise of another
endless winter.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
IN THE LIONS' DEN
Hey, maybe
easy does it?—
with all of your
prim gymnastic
hyper-elastic
fightin' words!
down there,
now—dim little Daniel;
for sure
as it's currently
rhythm
that's your instrument—
it'll most likely
soon
be
arthritis—that's your
impediment.
easy does it?—
with all of your
prim gymnastic
hyper-elastic
fightin' words!
down there,
now—dim little Daniel;
for sure
as it's currently
rhythm
that's your instrument—
it'll most likely
soon
be
arthritis—that's your
impediment.
IRREGARDLESS
Fair warning—near the very
early morning
the poet—warm-
headed
sticky-
haired
and—waking at last
from his
dear precious cache
of small
curdled rest
to behold in that
moment—a bewildering
new panorama
of colors
and
forms
and sensations—and thereupon
rising
and moving—slowly
to inhabit
tesseract
after
tesseract
of convoluted
rooms that
will need describing;
any little man
such as that—
is quite likely
feeling a disparately
good bit—less substantive
than he
contemporaneously
might be feeling—confident
articulating.
early morning
the poet—warm-
headed
sticky-
haired
and—waking at last
from his
dear precious cache
of small
curdled rest
to behold in that
moment—a bewildering
new panorama
of colors
and
forms
and sensations—and thereupon
rising
and moving—slowly
to inhabit
tesseract
after
tesseract
of convoluted
rooms that
will need describing;
any little man
such as that—
is quite likely
feeling a disparately
good bit—less substantive
than he
contemporaneously
might be feeling—confident
articulating.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
NON-FAIRY GODMOTHER
A lie—my child
is a wish
your heart
is willing to let die.
And it is real work—letting
a thing die;
islanded
out there—as it must be
in the very
midst of your
very real life—
as a single dream
in the
vast ocean of night might be;
but not undertaken
in order
to deny life—
but rather
simply
to spite it a little.
is a wish
your heart
is willing to let die.
And it is real work—letting
a thing die;
islanded
out there—as it must be
in the very
midst of your
very real life—
as a single dream
in the
vast ocean of night might be;
but not undertaken
in order
to deny life—
but rather
simply
to spite it a little.
Monday, March 23, 2015
STATIC CHARACTER
Substantive as she appears—
to clutch
with tight glovefingers
jewel-crusted cane tops and white
tea cups—
while seated
slanted smartly
in pleated reams of gilded velvet, draped
loose—so as not to hide,
but rather highlight
each principled wrinkle—and dispensing, quite
even-handedly,
impeccably-
timed and great age-
ripened witticisms, very specifically
when and however she
pleases
to trill them out to attendant purple parlors;
the poor
old
Dowager-Countess persists
nevertheless—poor,
impoverished, starving
for attention;
for no company present
actually hears
or heeds her rich declarations, caked and
heaped
together so incredibly densely
as they are—word
by
thick luscious
beautifully embellished British word—
into such decadent piles
of caramelized
profiteroles
of sentences—
each filled to near-
bursting with such devilishly sticky
gooey creamy filling—
that no polite guest
could rightly ingest
more than
one or
two of them in a sitting.
to clutch
with tight glovefingers
jewel-crusted cane tops and white
tea cups—
while seated
slanted smartly
in pleated reams of gilded velvet, draped
loose—so as not to hide,
but rather highlight
each principled wrinkle—and dispensing, quite
even-handedly,
impeccably-
timed and great age-
ripened witticisms, very specifically
when and however she
pleases
to trill them out to attendant purple parlors;
the poor
old
Dowager-Countess persists
nevertheless—poor,
impoverished, starving
for attention;
for no company present
actually hears
or heeds her rich declarations, caked and
heaped
together so incredibly densely
as they are—word
by
thick luscious
beautifully embellished British word—
into such decadent piles
of caramelized
profiteroles
of sentences—
each filled to near-
bursting with such devilishly sticky
gooey creamy filling—
that no polite guest
could rightly ingest
more than
one or
two of them in a sitting.
Friday, March 20, 2015
PORTRAIT OF THE DELIVERY BOY WITH HIS M.A.
Coasting past the elementary school
the red yellow
crossing guard—long,
grimfaced,
pockmark-
mottled, female—
brandishing her huge
stop
sign
and snapping—Go ahead quick, Bicycle!
And him
pedaling through with his deep mind recording—
pricelessly astute
but far,
far
less usefully—That was a metonym.
the red yellow
crossing guard—long,
grimfaced,
pockmark-
mottled, female—
brandishing her huge
stop
sign
and snapping—Go ahead quick, Bicycle!
And him
pedaling through with his deep mind recording—
pricelessly astute
but far,
far
less usefully—That was a metonym.
IRRESPONSIBLE PARADE ROUTE
Suddenly
on the first day of
spring—come many
pale skinny kids rubbing
out their dark eyes and
blinking—then
streaming through
crosswalk-winnowed city blocks
in thin clothes and
singing—no particular popular
song to keep rhythm;
and already—not one of them thinking
about winter, or
traffic, or
even remembering
anything significant
regarding what
happened last
night, for that matter—as they
advance toward their
ultimate destination—those lusciously verdant
cocktails
at those open-
air tables—along the way
intermittently pausing
to praise and toss-
out pretty flowers
plucked earlier
from the un-
kempt sidewalk-
sale out in
front of the Jewel-Osco.
on the first day of
spring—come many
pale skinny kids rubbing
out their dark eyes and
blinking—then
streaming through
crosswalk-winnowed city blocks
in thin clothes and
singing—no particular popular
song to keep rhythm;
and already—not one of them thinking
about winter, or
traffic, or
even remembering
anything significant
regarding what
happened last
night, for that matter—as they
advance toward their
ultimate destination—those lusciously verdant
cocktails
at those open-
air tables—along the way
intermittently pausing
to praise and toss-
out pretty flowers
plucked earlier
from the un-
kempt sidewalk-
sale out in
front of the Jewel-Osco.
ANGELS SINGING ON THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING—
In the
whole
bright big
beautiful blue
world!—
it's entirely
weird—
that there's
that many waiting rooms.
whole
bright big
beautiful blue
world!—
it's entirely
weird—
that there's
that many waiting rooms.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
NO BIRTH AND NO DEATH
On a bust
of his ancestor,
clinging candlelit
bleak above his
chipped and
dismal chamber door—
perched
and spat
the raven—something rather
a little too grim
and final
for him
to handle.
Meanwhile,
unheeded—
silently blared
the somewhat
more helpful
tip at
the top
of that—swiftly diminishing
waxy
alabaster candle—look guys;
it's cool.
I'm fire.
of his ancestor,
clinging candlelit
bleak above his
chipped and
dismal chamber door—
perched
and spat
the raven—something rather
a little too grim
and final
for him
to handle.
Meanwhile,
unheeded—
silently blared
the somewhat
more helpful
tip at
the top
of that—swiftly diminishing
waxy
alabaster candle—look guys;
it's cool.
I'm fire.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
SCAM
Once—
and for
a limited time only—
life's an award;
after which
you're
totally stuck
spending
day after day—just
struggling
to afford it.
struggling
to afford it.
THE IMAGIST POET HAS HIS CONCERNS—
How? can my mind
be
both
a diamond—
and tired?
Also—is anybody
else out there
pretty
sure—that they're
shitting
a lot more than they're eating?
be
both
a diamond—
and tired?
Also—is anybody
else out there
pretty
sure—that they're
shitting
a lot more than they're eating?
SOLO WITH ACCOMPANIMENT
Whenever—
clear
out of nowhere,
without
any trigger—seeming-
ly free
from violence
and vim
and
all attendant
vignettes whatsoever—save
for
the sheer fact
of its
sudden
penetration
and
impact
on a landscape—
warm light enters,
enlivening all particles;
that's when—
some of them
begin
figuring to one another—here's!
where
the violins
should start
to fade in—and marveling,
oh!—how
it just makes
and ruins
the whole thing.
clear
out of nowhere,
without
any trigger—seeming-
ly free
from violence
and vim
and
all attendant
vignettes whatsoever—save
for
the sheer fact
of its
sudden
penetration
and
impact
on a landscape—
warm light enters,
enlivening all particles;
that's when—
some of them
begin
figuring to one another—here's!
where
the violins
should start
to fade in—and marveling,
oh!—how
it just makes
and ruins
the whole thing.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
SHORE
At least—after wild storms
and bleak
unpredictable stresses, he feels
there can be a certain plain and
repeatable
order to his sleep—where
he might dream—
simply
of perfectly
calm and full oceans—not contained,
for not complete,
inside any such
tall glass as might convey
even the most fleeting
feeling of momentary optimism—
and with
absolutely no bubbles
to flatter
or define them at their edges.
And then
when he wakes, he might dare
to imagine
having imagined—
that the whole world
has stopped
and slept in his wake;
and bleak
unpredictable stresses, he feels
there can be a certain plain and
repeatable
order to his sleep—where
he might dream—
simply
of perfectly
calm and full oceans—not contained,
for not complete,
inside any such
tall glass as might convey
even the most fleeting
feeling of momentary optimism—
and with
absolutely no bubbles
to flatter
or define them at their edges.
And then
when he wakes, he might dare
to imagine
having imagined—
that the whole world
has stopped
and slept in his wake;
and when he rises again
to move—in pastel light,
through a kindlier space,
that the whole world is leaping forward
with him—rekindled
and a little
less confused.
to move—in pastel light,
through a kindlier space,
that the whole world is leaping forward
with him—rekindled
and a little
less confused.
Monday, March 16, 2015
PRELUDE TO THE AFTERNOON
Eventually—from the flutes
and the Eb
clarinet section
warm curves of air
gingerly inch
their way
all the way
up to plump balconies—and their
manifold rows
of cracked
and shadowy
masked faces
poised—in a fashion
of such
luxurious
disinterest; whereupon
they settle
gradually
and
with discretion
to the
delicate task
of moistening—
their nosebleeds.
and the Eb
clarinet section
warm curves of air
gingerly inch
their way
all the way
up to plump balconies—and their
manifold rows
of cracked
and shadowy
masked faces
poised—in a fashion
of such
luxurious
disinterest; whereupon
they settle
gradually
and
with discretion
to the
delicate task
of moistening—
their nosebleeds.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
DOMINO
Vanishing into a pinprick
blackhole
off in the crooked
distance—
endless blue rows
of receptacles—
filled with
receptacle-fulls
of receptacles—most of them largely half-
full or
more—of whichever
phenomenon—it's been
supposed
they were empty
of.
blackhole
off in the crooked
distance—
endless blue rows
of receptacles—
filled with
receptacle-fulls
of receptacles—most of them largely half-
full or
more—of whichever
phenomenon—it's been
supposed
they were empty
of.
Friday, March 13, 2015
CEREMONIAL
As above
so too
below—as
another errant chunk
of blithe
bike commuter—inclined
by the formidable
rhythm of
traffic lights changing—
is inevitably pressed
lock-
step into slow and interminable
orbital dance—
with the most grotesque
of partners—a klutzy city bus.
so too
below—as
another errant chunk
of blithe
bike commuter—inclined
by the formidable
rhythm of
traffic lights changing—
is inevitably pressed
lock-
step into slow and interminable
orbital dance—
with the most grotesque
of partners—a klutzy city bus.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
REPRODUCED
I am—
not! a rock
I am not
an island!—
Nope; I'm—a Target
I
am
a
Walmart—
over-
stocked but
underserving you
deliberately—
with only
one or two
of my ample
and future-y
checkout lanes open.
And—you'll hear me
here
when I
here-
by declare—no American
icon
or idol
or poet
is safe!
from the
cheaper
and deeper-
stacked
chittering
wrath—of
my
wrath.
not! a rock
I am not
an island!—
Nope; I'm—a Target
I
am
a
Walmart—
over-
stocked but
underserving you
deliberately—
with only
one or two
of my ample
and future-y
checkout lanes open.
And—you'll hear me
here
when I
here-
by declare—no American
icon
or idol
or poet
is safe!
from the
cheaper
and deeper-
stacked
chittering
wrath—of
my
wrath.
OF PROGRESS
Walt Disney
declared—there's
a
great
big
beautiful
tomorrow
shining
at the end of every day—while
Dickinson dared—
there's
that
certain slant of light—
oppressing
and
investing us
with all
the hurt
that heaven can muster;
but looking out—
I just see
a great
big
carrot
up there—
spot-lit fat
and hairy
and orange
and knobby
and whatever—
on a string that's
suspended
from the drop-
ceiling
of a
carousel
somewhere
on a themepark
lot—
the floor
of which seems
to have been rather
listlessly littered
with a few
black
banana peels
which I'm
hardly
concerned about—since the whole rig
kind of
more or less
seems
to be
moving—all
together.
declared—there's
a
great
big
beautiful
tomorrow
shining
at the end of every day—while
Dickinson dared—
there's
that
certain slant of light—
oppressing
and
investing us
with all
the hurt
that heaven can muster;
but looking out—
I just see
a great
big
carrot
up there—
spot-lit fat
and hairy
and orange
and knobby
and whatever—
on a string that's
suspended
from the drop-
ceiling
of a
carousel
somewhere
on a themepark
lot—
the floor
of which seems
to have been rather
listlessly littered
with a few
black
banana peels
which I'm
hardly
concerned about—since the whole rig
kind of
more or less
seems
to be
moving—all
together.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
PREMIERE
Must be
Spring—if you're keen
enough to guess
with all due
incredulity—how an empty hard pack
of Newports
littering
the new grass—could be
sincerely
sub-
labeled "cigarettes".
Spring—if you're keen
enough to guess
with all due
incredulity—how an empty hard pack
of Newports
littering
the new grass—could be
sincerely
sub-
labeled "cigarettes".
LAG
On a forlorn corner
several squat
chalkfaced tuckpointers—each rolled
dolefully
into his ample overalls—suspend
momentarily
as I bend
and pass—
their monumental undertaking
to squander
and hoard
and move back
and forth
various
clay colored barrowfulls
of barrow
coloed clay and mortar—to presumably
crackwise
in a tongue
which is not mine—and then
to fissure
into fantastically encouraging smiles
and simple
peels of gentle steam-
dispatching
laughter—in one which
suddenly is.
several squat
chalkfaced tuckpointers—each rolled
dolefully
into his ample overalls—suspend
momentarily
as I bend
and pass—
their monumental undertaking
to squander
and hoard
and move back
and forth
various
clay colored barrowfulls
of barrow
coloed clay and mortar—to presumably
crackwise
in a tongue
which is not mine—and then
to fissure
into fantastically encouraging smiles
and simple
peels of gentle steam-
dispatching
laughter—in one which
suddenly is.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
CROWS NEST
Face it Kate—there's absolutely
no risk
in chasing
after
any treasure which we didn't
first bury
deep in the earth
ourselves;
courage—the real stuff,
exists
in being just—
slightly
brave! but
unwaveringly—and without
caving-
in—to impetuousness.
no risk
in chasing
after
any treasure which we didn't
first bury
deep in the earth
ourselves;
courage—the real stuff,
exists
in being just—
slightly
brave! but
unwaveringly—and without
caving-
in—to impetuousness.
JUMPING OFF POINT
Intergalactic
chaos!
Reenacting
itself
still—there
on the vast black-
top pay lot
outside—hundreds
to dozens
of shards
of anemic
Heineken-
green glass—appearing
inert
under still-
vaster veils
of pale
light refracted—
in reality, slowly
turning—
Heineken-Greener.
chaos!
Reenacting
itself
still—there
on the vast black-
top pay lot
outside—hundreds
to dozens
of shards
of anemic
Heineken-
green glass—appearing
inert
under still-
vaster veils
of pale
light refracted—
in reality, slowly
turning—
Heineken-Greener.
Monday, March 9, 2015
NONPARTISAN
All these
small politicians—whose
peeping I
can't seem to
outpace on the streets—
don't sound
to me
quite
so brave
as I
imagine they've fixed-
to—
firing-off
all their well-provisioned
lock-stock
little missives!
unseen—
and unseeable—save for
some rustling
from deep within
those
impermeable
bushes.
small politicians—whose
peeping I
can't seem to
outpace on the streets—
don't sound
to me
quite
so brave
as I
imagine they've fixed-
to—
firing-off
all their well-provisioned
lock-stock
little missives!
unseen—
and unseeable—save for
some rustling
from deep within
those
impermeable
bushes.
FANTASIA ON A THEME
Apologies in advance—for
whatever they're worth
to every small
morning bird out there
currently chirping—oo-de-lolly!
oo-de-lolly!
ooh-la-
la—gee! golly!
up, down and all over
each still-
tender chilly
bald limb on Bosworth—
but today
the much milder March
air settling in
across the tired
shoulders of our shy
new city has engendered
an entirely different sort
of mass
all-together—the homily of which regards
true glory!
as something much quieter;
condensation
on shop windows—
fog on low
sidewalks—
the brave blush
of a little
sun on ice—reflecting,
refreshing,
reanimating the promise—
that even all
the glass
and the muck
and the ash—
the dogshit and
Jewel bags and tidal waves
of sidewalk morass—
will not only
pull-
back, but moreover
will likely—
make truly
great manure someday.
whatever they're worth
to every small
morning bird out there
currently chirping—oo-de-lolly!
oo-de-lolly!
ooh-la-
la—gee! golly!
up, down and all over
each still-
tender chilly
bald limb on Bosworth—
but today
the much milder March
air settling in
across the tired
shoulders of our shy
new city has engendered
an entirely different sort
of mass
all-together—the homily of which regards
true glory!
as something much quieter;
condensation
on shop windows—
fog on low
sidewalks—
the brave blush
of a little
sun on ice—reflecting,
refreshing,
reanimating the promise—
that even all
the glass
and the muck
and the ash—
the dogshit and
Jewel bags and tidal waves
of sidewalk morass—
will not only
pull-
back, but moreover
will likely—
make truly
great manure someday.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
DAYLIGHT SAVINGS BEGINS
Made plain
only—for that flash
of a second
separating
the rollicking downbeat
at the top of the next measure—and
the last decaying
crash cymbal—at the
end of this past one;
the single-
note drone
of a pale tone wheel organ—which
since at least half-
way through the second-
to-last chorus—has been
stunningly unobtrusively!
deployed
by the producer
with the ultimate
and the thankless
objective—of gluing
two unbelievable—
if a little
disparate—song fragments together.
only—for that flash
of a second
separating
the rollicking downbeat
at the top of the next measure—and
the last decaying
crash cymbal—at the
end of this past one;
the single-
note drone
of a pale tone wheel organ—which
since at least half-
way through the second-
to-last chorus—has been
stunningly unobtrusively!
deployed
by the producer
with the ultimate
and the thankless
objective—of gluing
two unbelievable—
if a little
disparate—song fragments together.
Friday, March 6, 2015
EPITAPH FOR A COPYWRITER
Dark—
now
and
again—but then not really
half-
bad with his
bright daily
brainfingers—which,
significantly—never aspired
to tell
the whole truth—
only
the bits—worth describing.
now
and
again—but then not really
half-
bad with his
bright daily
brainfingers—which,
significantly—never aspired
to tell
the whole truth—
only
the bits—worth describing.
NOT IDEAS ABOUT THE SONG BUT THE SONG ITSELF
Mellow and delicately
yawning—the slow throats
of your ears
stretch without strain
near the dark
end of winter
and then—tentatively affording one another
the momentarily
decadent
opportunity to savor—soon snap
to a sound—still faint
fuzzy
faraway
beguiling—
a sound that could only
have come from outside—because never!
in your right mind
could you have dreamt
of concocting—
the curiously vernal melody—now inviting
itself inward nonstop
through your cartilage-
thin walls—from the uncharted wealth
of such possible worlds
as might just exist somewhere
off in the alley—
the unmistakably—rattletrap clamoring
organ and clapping
hands—
of the goddamn J. Geils Band!
yawning—the slow throats
of your ears
stretch without strain
near the dark
end of winter
and then—tentatively affording one another
the momentarily
decadent
opportunity to savor—soon snap
to a sound—still faint
fuzzy
faraway
beguiling—
a sound that could only
have come from outside—because never!
in your right mind
could you have dreamt
of concocting—
the curiously vernal melody—now inviting
itself inward nonstop
through your cartilage-
thin walls—from the uncharted wealth
of such possible worlds
as might just exist somewhere
off in the alley—
the unmistakably—rattletrap clamoring
organ and clapping
hands—
of the goddamn J. Geils Band!
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