The Girl Who Smokes by the Bay Window

The girl who smokes by the bay window. Excellent kneecaps disturb dead clouds, Black birds fly clean through her head. "How'd I do now?" I demand. She smiles. Little button teeth through puerile smoke, She's going to give all this Brooklyn some cancer, "You're a'ight Mr. Nigerian Man, just a'ight." "I told you I found … Continue reading The Girl Who Smokes by the Bay Window

Nice White Polo

I abide a guitar solo, By Gary Clark Jr. who is a demon, A demon, If I ever saw one, With a wide-brim hat and banjo, that boy. And his unhinged, epileptic crowd of whores and hippies in my ears. This becomes my strong reason to resist devils. In the crowd, One watches me watch … Continue reading Nice White Polo

Men are Allowed to Cry

Men are allowed to cry. To leak into damp dreams, To long for the one never gotten, Hunt down the ones hardly so, And still smell the ceaseless vacancy, It’s all right to talk blades out of open wrists, And be finished in a quaking crowd. To be just drained enough, And still supply sound … Continue reading Men are Allowed to Cry

America in a Brochure

Americans constipated across state-lines, Red-eyed men with dog-tags and paper roofs, Men missing teeth, with limestone bunions, Women and tangled spawns bent under the constant humility of immigration, Lurking along the damp edges of this fine America. Welcome. Fresh Africans sprinkled in Galveston alleys, Like broken glass on Saturday walkways, It was the absence of kindly lack, That did … Continue reading America in a Brochure

Little Typewriter Summaries

I remember those poets And their fervent love for typewriter summaries, Little cut-outs typefaces and such, Signed with lush aliases and tiny black hearts. One last rush for some academic honesty, Little typos too for golden realness, Some marvelous subterfuge. One must admire this fancy with some overt scorn and salt. You cannot write, Of … Continue reading Little Typewriter Summaries

Little Black Boys

I caress the battle scars of your open city, Moping faces turn concrete, People nursing little disgusts, Little sicknesses, little envies. People forcing God to bend this way, People doing yesterday things in tomorrow ways.

A Fraternity of Skeletons

There is a garden of calm skeletons, At the bottom of the Atlantic, Bleached now in seafaring serenity, A fraternity of skeletons Held down by limestone luggage, Skulls with deeper sockets, Higher cheek bones, Permanent smiles. There is a keepsake gold dagger that fell in by error, And a three-hole button that baths in rib … Continue reading A Fraternity of Skeletons

Life is an Orgy & Window Pie

They float like most, They wear it well, That fine gloom, Mornings, It catches the subway lights, It is inexpedient, For truly, there are not many things to laugh at now. There are those, in spite of life, Who smile for reasons unknown, Laugh, though needless, Giggle on contact, Ask of your sciatica, your pickled … Continue reading Life is an Orgy & Window Pie

Misery by Inches

I nod to the comrade in his ghastly green jacket, That wily New Yorker nod, He gets this respect Tight fish-eyes and all, But would not, for god, nod back, Not to a lesser man. Perhaps because finished souls have teeth sunken in an ending fraternity And this need not be broadcast In pulpits and … Continue reading Misery by Inches

Little Red Doors

On a street of red doors, I am a red one. See what you will, Try that you try. I will always be both ends Of a solitary shooting star. One fine end will slice thru god’s sides. The other will betray The trimmings of a lifelong lie, That I was all right in the … Continue reading Little Red Doors

One Fine Galloway

I cannot, With the fingers of god, Endure the rich here gathered. The sweaty priest. The abiding misery of high-society weddings, I have graced the funeral of debtors with better spirit. I abandon the fragranced herd, And the mariachi in fake moustachios, And the honeyed vino, And the tight bulimic wives, And the bloodripe daughters, Prettier than my … Continue reading One Fine Galloway