ducks in a row

steer clear

stay away

order a hamburger

suck a shake

come up for air in time.

tiny twigs in my petite pea brain

snap and I freak

screaming at my

true companion co pilot

consuming pieces of every good thing

sure, there are guide wires intact

among the idle and hot, aglide

left to puncture and tangle

stoked by wild stories fading

as we trip to

those were the days

Beware the finery

Valco Chemical Refinery

enhances cottonseed oil

with Wessonality

smells like fried chicken combo down Wilson Rd.

with some sinister clinging

blend of overripe cantaloupe

on the low notes

and the high spice of a chemist’s pits

at the top end

kids hold their breath

at the red light

but I can’t help it, every time

I inhale the depth of this smell

and wonder

at how

it barely tickles my ancient alarms

We can't go on forever

paranoid

pattern

united

(superstition)

Billy Preston

says, “nothing from nothing leaves nothing”

Lucretius says, “nothing

can be made from nothing”

but the brain (that thing) creates stories

when there’s not even a

porch light in sight.

baseball vs. basketball on who is most superstitious

keep doing this

until one remains

whichever happens

split again

walls go up

sun
comes

down come

so damn

close

to a three way parlay

average once a week

for that last 14 years.

Lucretius?

"no atom can be created and none can be destroyed; 
space is infinite, as is the number of atoms that move within it” 

Billy Preston:

will it

fly high

like a bird up

in the sky?

semi-finals at J.B.’s on old 41

the poet questions the consciousness

of dancing bees who refuse to sting the smoker.

a strike! he falls to his knees and keens, be-

lieving the dots in his visions and dreams connect.

from this pose, he ejects a piece of gristle guilty

of lodging overnight in his back teeth.

how does one ascribe language to a chile pequino

etched with the image of a trained monkey in the talons

of a bald eagle morphing into the shadow of a black

bird that shits his own bathwater? one must roll.

sponsored by the oiled scalp of a true American.

4hrs 14min to Ber-NEE

Driving to Boerne, Texas today

to pick up a craigslist kiln

on 22 acres of how the fuck

does someone take care of all this?

I learned a valuable lesson about

tension.

Very heavy lid on this thing.

Well hell, it would have to be,

i mean, look at the fucking SIZE

of that spring.

Here,

I’ll just work super hard to undo it!

One-hand snap on the bra strap of a vengeful God

ensnared

punctured and bleeding.

Did that stop me? Yes.

For the time it took to release the tension from my crushed fingers.

Then we had BBQ.

two-meat plate for me,

brisket and pork ribs eaten with my good duke bandaged.

got hard for the rich white men

and the gentle wave of their unruly white hair,

walking in

ahead of women

who’ve grown

to look like them.

Jimmy Falls

the gift of a trick pitch

is that it lands in the glove

and solves for swinging sticks

at this juncture in Jimmy’s life

he’d never got a letter out of the blue,

but his were answered in time.

before getting plugged

 (a musket ball was his downfall)

Jimmy gently lifted a stone with the tip of his moccasin

stirring brown beetles and grubs.

cockroaches caught in the act under

the stained box that remains

of letters and tchotchkes

the game ball presented to him

from Nathan James

Longstreet, reenactment friend

Saturday

sliding glass door tracks

ruthless,

single minded

water spigots

phantom insulation

cheating in my dreams

concrete slabs unpoured

underestimated electric

earth to turn

fences to mend

mystified.

The kids have friends,

playing dungeons & dragons.

Marco’s wrapped around

a cello sawing notes in counterpoint to cackling laughter

plus warm orange crush

popped & poured over ice

second pot of coffee today

I quit counting on the smokes.

I quit for a month.

and that first cig after.

damn.

done caught that dragon again

Oh, what a little moon light'll do

water sliced stone

pocket knife

luminates tin pan instagram

messages fade

resist the tune stuck in your head

even sweet jane's

long silent stretch of leg

over which tangled sheets

cascade

Full Disclosure

Quick confession
mea culpa
recusatory statement:
I calibrate the mirror so as to
not interfere
with my self-concocted image.
you'd love it.
Come along with me on my bicycle and all my neighborhood friends.
faculty meeting this morning!
which means pedalling extra hard.
won’t have time for the suicidal Chihuahua, Ben
running along complaining again
of Tobias
the deer humper
and his bloody no good taser.

tongue says

tastes like

the smell

of good soil

and salt

on the warm

underside

of her bare

foot

St Charles

sun and fog magnified
on the streetcar home
floating
neutral ground thru
four lanes of sunday
morning traffic
windows up
cool condensation
steel wheels hum
electric pop
echoe ache pain

Winn-Dixie bag rides 
the breeze
engine
cracks
just cut, like that
she’s done too
short note on the floor
by the door
unsigned

quittin' smokin' pome

practicing my rudiments

building my blocks

right left right right

left right left left

relearning the power of paradiddle

of gravity’s bounce

I used to get so tired

bulldozing, steam rolling

wielding sledge hammers instead

of these perfectly balanced divining rods

losing myself in repetition

long patterns seeking rhythmic submission

the world contracts pulsing light

my children peek in

Gangly & Awkward, the undersexed adolescents,

schlepping their horns like your baby

after you’ve dropped it already once or twice

ask if they can play with me

and that is my grace.

when it gets too late for drums I

start puncturing small withdrawal holes in my tongue

rather than being a dick to my wife

I pick up old cochon quequette

my neglected acoustic six string

and play long into the night

outside temple xxx

to the left to the right

the usher’s torch illuminates slouching

analog souls
stuck like brittle on modern ribs

last triple x in captivity nets small brigade

of self-inseminators 
breach the crowded boulevard

chagrinned

sky transcends infinite distance

and the soil gently fellates a nutty little seed

underneath the asphalt

leisure suit gods lounge on high

debung barrels

of profane and propane

spoiling for America’s next celebrity blow job

stones like bones

sow the earth that covers me

with Grimzell Seed Co. hominy

absent a fork, you will know I’m done

when the dirt ejaculates

fresh shoots

fraught with meaning.

I'll Stop the World

losing the ability to trust you

know what’s best for me

your drone clanks like bent tie rod

dripping bile from its punctured kamikaze

whaddaya think money grows on trees

no, yo, I swallow baggies and shit your GDP

keep me high on dopamine

and what am I doing appealing

grapes

snow flaked

epidermal death

clogging nostrils jamming
the mucosa of multitudes

swapping buttery gender rolls

rank and file

percolate

burning faith

burning mind

bored

wait in line faith

can’t be fucked with cause

it won’t see the trees

for the crazies

bending reason

to lick the perspiring
mountain of imagination
it takes to blow up
the world

Livestock Show

slip on the boots

dad broke in

who may have found peace

before he was laid to rest

when Sadie finally stayed for that second lemonade.

senti-mentally stripped Nashville slick

meaner than I am rich

and I pick
up the tab

for the long line behind me

pickin’ and a’grinnin’

pull a pearl snap sleeve
across an
Orange Crush mustache

bees

steal the

angel’s share in the dust.

can’t tell whether it’s me, mesquite smoke

or bagpipes on Copperhead Road

but my eyes won’t

stay quiet

dad did say

he didn't care

for my confession.

that I can behave

and not believe

who I am

anymore

but the rest of the world

is not obligated to chart

my growth

or note my

overall improvement

Where You Been

in early October

as you lay splayed

facedown

grapevines trained and pruned

fresh blood blooms

confused by unseasonable warmth

some samaritan manages 911

post-nose dive

sirens fart

arpeggios emblazoned

with your name

a fine stench indeed to

accompany vintage blackout

come late November

you are resurrected in text:

fell off the wagon hard

5 days in the hospital

30 day detox

almost killed myself

pitching horseshoes

Go Down Guadalupe

brindle brown Continental

creeps anew

Brylcreemed ancient angling for strange

cross myself with a scratch off

bus stop lotto

winter sky lobotomized

pretty punk preens

twists an obscenely riveted tongue

inhibition slips on whiskey

lips as I debut conversation for one

privacy is not rent-free my blue-jean jacketed

crack baby

I clutch my heart and scream

it's all about to blow

Make the World Go Away

loitering in a double wide lot

cataracted plastic transportation

mattress stains

trading class rings

with any boy'll say boo

attic rafters groan with yearbooks and old panic

ripped denim

coming home winded, ready to run again

mom says just ignore them

lead laced ice cubes spike her Crystal Light

starving on brand loyalty

this town is spit

roasted goat on bone

but all the windows are stuck painted shut

leave mark, sign and scat

in fallow rooms where apples rot

mold creeps up corners in dusty veins

fouls the valves of American-Made hearts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3caNwl4EtE