Some go sally

from Parade Music

 

Some go sally on to Montreal,

Some go sally on the Hoodson,

Some trip trippingly to Gay Paris,

Some cook curry in Loondon.

Oh, the ladies they parade!

Oh, the gents they sweat!

It's all, or some, or none at all,

Or it ain't near over yet!

Singsong of Thumbs

from Parade Music

Ladies and gentlemen: the parade of days!

the music of scour and pail,

and diapering at night and dustpan work

to the rhythm of mending and failure.

Everyday is the day of slow decay

and cake reverts to crumbs

we collect to bake our cake today.

It's why we've got these thumbs.

Divine decrees with Bondo and grease

we manage to maintain.

We polish God's chains and axles and gears

rusting in God's rain.

Every stiff in this mob works the same job;

baker, mechanic, nurse.

It slips and we fix it, and the change of shift

is a traffic of pram and hearse.

Hop Scotch

from Parade Music

Terra Firma

Baleina? Sperma!

Pricks. Tricks. Nix.

Tertiary mastic,

Kanji acrostic,

creamery

dream of the

mousehole.

Why can't daddy pay the rent?

Popcorn, sodapop, cinders, flint.

Fancy lady, fancy shoes;

If you don't play you never lose.

Five,seven

nine,eleven.

Gimme silk,

Gimme satin,

Tout le'soirs

fin en matins!

Lowercase paradise

Sysco ice cream,

Imperial Soda (a lot like Moxie).

Roxy Music on a radio

(a lot like Moxie, really).

Right now without

a crimp. No new busted

transmission cooler

to cost me a bundle and set me back.

Never a slickster with the coin

of the realm; rather more of a talker

and former hothead.

Though age and advice have tempered the temper.

I'm playing pretty flat this year.

Blowing it, really, left and right.

So man, I love these small prizes,

these lowercase paradises.

This hot stoop for one:

some sun and time

to nurse this frozen

Imperial Moxie Sysco sodafloat.

A Visit to a Gallery

There's this trick I can do with my fancy schooling,

White skin and thrift-store Oxford

Ten minutes in he's pitching me Lichtenstein

A minor piece of monochrome silhouettes

We converse, briefly, on narrative art

and the graceful use of color

I know this won't sustain:I cannot game

the money bit and excuse myself