TUNICS, TROUSERS AND CLOAKS



I sing of something that cannot speak
its name though its signature
is everywhere
Of sentimental feeling

and immaculate behavior 
Of pre-pledged consent
to the national future
in the tumult of the folds
I make a hole

for glory wherever
in alehouses and down laneways
The lips of my contemporaries are sealed
To get dressed
I need the help of a trained slave







 
 


WAYS TO WIN



Imagine a beast thriving
rudderless while it rips you to pieces
whence the sucking commences
it lives more, the more it sucks
the fleshy sign
semi & precious metals
the fragility of their linkage
all the evil things of the world will have full sway
with a high collar to hold my chin up
in gross profusion
Gushing up
in self-pollution
surfeit of seed
Worthy of this vehicle
I went to the mall & collapsed







A PAEAN FOR MY HOMETOWN


I hide in the horse ship
refusing to unload
the reeking vessel
so blind and confined braying
in the confident post-face of our feasting
With unstoppable gait over solid substrate
in coming after solstice

the end or adaptation
to its prediction 


“when I hung myself
upside down at the center
of one of my openings”
& in that wake
crest-ridden and flanked


I get horizontal
down on the docks and publicly
declare a flag for brute feeling
I suck heartily on the teats
of a world-class city
& profit off the gaunt
carnal mess


It is possible to make out
an anchor and rudder
in the hands
of the shoppers on the promenade
with standards and wreaths

& hushed coral advances 
who daily pay court
& consort in taverns
in sowing season
sulfur, tar, and torches










 
THE LAST GREAT HETERO-NORMATIVE HOPE



among like-minded thinkers
in outlying villages
what bodies accomplish
as bodies alone

the repeated insistence
of certain affects

the inevitable bursting
of suburban lawns
among the runners
here I've seen

trudge thru drifts
I heard you say
cheap trick I heard
you say charmed life
what is really so simple
in conjunction with first effects
those fixed and eternal things
face of the whole

hammerhead cock
whatever is extended

in the same possible world
in which I txt my boss
& LOL at scholia
scrawl anti-state messages on my eyeblack








WABENZI


in bright day configured by the chain
of extinction debt
from square to sea

with bluster & fury
an agent aims
to distinguish the intellect
from the imagination
from the standpoint of what
seeks to control it
from flophouse
to chopping block
Hello world hello deed
what lies between
want and need
in guttural gesture
in coated pluming
Which republic is this?
which way do the buses point tonight?


Host me in the country
take me to fish ladder
tell me of the ways
of no future and when the line
runs dry when truck

with practicality swerves
“keep your weakness intact”
watch geese tidy crabgrass
and the gull get its hotcake
embassies are burning

lay those deputies down 




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