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SQUARE DANCER TAKES THE POLE

                                                                            

 

 

I

 

more like the Whisper to a Scream song

a version of history fit in a purse

hardbacks and paper separate but she-qual

ala Jonah in Belly of Whale -along

Nola moonwalks, Jackson not quite Shia

Shakespeare, volunteer Swat Team

integrates and apple pitches to pear-

tasting for today's Carla Gugino

plays anyone's Asia Argento

integrates soul to gismo, flower, whatever —

I’d love her broken hotel chain Pensa

cola not From Producer Jerry Bruck-

heimer style but wasp’s nest fragile we’d

tribute the man's long foamed shadow

 

 

II

 

Someone

named Lentini

sent this randy riddle:

I’ve started treating my poems

like crime

 

scenes. Take

Janine’s footprint

as evidence of an

adolescent galaxy in

shag-white –

 

fortunes

read in a cracked

voice bluffed hard nose futures

into a tasty crumb-trail witch

y Now.

 

I must

tithe with more gus-

to get on the Spirit

Bus and read the moving blue signs

called Clouds.

 

the o-

ver the shoulder

title-catch attempts (my

word) of the Lady’s reading won’t

let me.

 

 

III

 

 

Moving trucks on Saturdays prefigure

a lap dance for a square dancer How do

you alphabetize J’ Monque’ D?

Redbeans-and post-Sabbath propel

pillow fights at the Four Seasons

channeling God as I walked the creek is

another brief person’s leap frog

a Green Bay guy to play Other Football.

I hate to presume on our short acquaintance

an over-Hanover cinema wind sound

leading us gloveless and hatless to corners,

but Sonnet revival tent shant just form bracelet

ring off and leave us nothing but the ground

to walk on when already this lawless

 

 

IV

 

 

Working

on the tattle-

tales of the brake pads in

a glitter-glove fished from the

closet –

 

What I

wouldn’t give to be

the old guys on the pre-

ier étage front porch on Tchoupi

toulas,                                                                  

 

kicking

it, lazy-life.

It’s all about going

to a different world than the Fuck

one we

 

live in –

why I have car,

yes, and an Ecstatic

Relationship with Everything

not dropped

 

wrench. Christ,

my two favorite

homeless people just got

hitched. I’ll forgo the brake job for

presence.