DSC_6977 from S-FILMS on Vimeo. (Things are hectic around here, Comrades… back with new Words in a few days!) careless marching of Time we have just about reached folks the point at which the words ahem  “Humphrey Bogart” become inscrutable   ADDENDUM A little more to sink your teeth into: A song I wrote for Wife… a Dylan pastiche (in the cascading cadence of Like a Rolling Stone; the syllables in italics emphasize where the stresses fall). Personal curio…   Continue reading careless marching of Time (updated)

THE UNDERTAKER   Part One: Philadelphia   The Undertaker is a potent figure in the Cosmology of the Negro Neighborhood, standing somewhere between Baron Samedi and Charon and Paul in the hodgepodge of religious myth that infuses Negro blood since after The Flood and before The Fall (that’s) (a.d.1492) (and 1864, respectively,) (y’all). every   sweatbox Baptist storefront Hall with crosses soaped on steamed-up street level windows and a drumkit near the pulpit and all,  has one square-jawed well-dressed man to which the heart-stopped sisters will report, slack jaw’d and black-tit naked as a last resort: Maybelle splayed on the … Continue reading the undertaker: a very long pome

“Fate rarely opts for the strictly comic or the simply tragic when the tragicomic will do.”-Pastor Prime . 3Pomes from IF BERLIN . . the fine arts in berlin   old von bredow and his widow in apparent years sufficient but too meticulous in their pleasures to ever be grandparents, somber-slim and softly rich as becketts, are again in the market for a girl to cook, polish, launder, drive, pose for his sketches and comply without kvetching to the importunities enticed by ripening youth. evidence of a recent bloodtest, a signed declaration of boyfriendlessness, sweet breath and high breasts to … Continue reading 3Pomes from IF BERLIN

  sick in berlin getting sick in berlin its own black romance like love in paris a fling strangers too close on the metro fluids exchanged the essence of nameless kissing that rheumy-eyed grandfather with his pre-Euro Aldi bag his snotrag hard as a fossil may as well have had his tongue in your mouth with a persistent cough he is part of you even poetry is humbled by the couple you have become in fever’s capacity for regret Sunday, 10. February 2008 *** you are a berlin (in honor of the end of an era)* you are a berlin … Continue reading 4 BERLIN POMES

  target boss Death has no real say in the deal like the check out churl in a corporate co-op hawking pears as green way-pricey pearls you feel forced to bitch at this insignificant figure in loco which (admit you’re) (rich bitch cross) though: spare the poor unworldly hireling your ire;  target manbun’s out of touch boss for your sense less loss . i gave so many fucks i gave so many fucks when young i’m stunned i’ve come to give some still propelled perhaps by self’s ill vacuum’s suck at ego’s fragile crack to (with love) fill . r u … Continue reading 4SNAPPY POMES of the ULTRAMODERN

sipping i read Jerhonda Pace was just      15 when she  met her musical idol, R. Kelly,     outside his child pornography trial:  a     stylish first line for a novel.               it seems too bad it’s merely true, taken un adulterated from straight-faced morning news  (though more than just a bit) (funny) (oh, fuck your tut-tut-tutting) (boo). Kelly (50) also   paid for DJ Kitti to visit his nibs in Denver. soon as our Kitti arrives R Kelly surprises by blithely masturbating to plight his troth ’til Kitti feels ill with fate’s LOL-call to … Continue reading morning news: a pome

  “Give them time, Bella told herself, they’re only young”.   – Jenny Diski, The Dream Mistress “Over wine at dinner Miss Gamelon told Miss Goering that it was only correct that she should be thus.”   -Jane Bowles, Two Serious Ladies – –   incredibly capable crone, undetectable by testosterone, stealth itself in all her undesiredness, wicked as a paper cut ( in wit ) of tongue tip slit, mint envelope too swiftly licked, many (wo)manuscripts sent, her grimaces thickening palimpsests, she’s   coming for you yet, will snap those dick lit pencil necks with crone kicks really hurting, first ninja … Continue reading incredibly capable crone (a super hero pome)

WHERE IS YOUR AWARD-WINNING SOB-STORY, POET?   where is your award-winning sob story, poet? your artless re-collection of shit-luck’s local rain;  no no not there  on a page but carved  in your face, just make our hairs stand up again. no no, not metaphor: the living thing, your body-book of priceless pain: fill out the forms and claim by youth, weight, sex, disability or race blame, then: fame.       forget style’s privilege, the   hate-crime slur “illiterate,” march topless to protest epiphany-risking alphabet-rockets cocked at inchoate Lunas in blue cliché and every bigot’s toxic bliss in Ability  (a) required, (b) … Continue reading WHERE IS YOUR AWARD-WINNING SOB-STORY, POET? (a pome)

  if berlin (poems)   LINK TO POEMS Continue reading IF BERLIN (poems)

There are two kinds of neat endings: the satisfying circle that ends where it began, and the straight line that ends in a point.-Jenny Diski   30 under 30, lips big with promise, quillin’ starlets, yummy bodies mill thirty sonnets, no ugly bunnies in the bunch just hotties, the committee of the contest swung Euterpe’s harried cat,  hit klatch hip- thick in lairy goddesses,  odds against it: staggering, herd work itself unearned, un versed, un worth much blag or bothering, eclipsed in turn by 20 under 20’s vestal offering , yet   60 over 60’s claws keep sharpening Continue reading 30 under 30 (a pome)