Grammar ain't a Bitch

This language is dancing

and I
only brought
two left feet.

This language is dancing and
its fire
is spreading
out
across the floor.

Its sex is forefront, brazen,
full form.

Its body is thick.
Its curves come erect.
This language is dancing,
finite.
Intense.

I noticed today
that my clothes
smell like white trash.
Probably 'cause
I've been sweating, and they haven't
been in the washer
for days.

I'll do something
about it.
Probably later.
Probably not at all.

College don't make 'em like they used to.

And, you go
to school
for what?

Pre-architecture.

So, what is that, like,
foundations
and stuff?

What?

Exactly.

Never buy your cigarettes at the liquor store for dolts.

When I walked down to the liquor store
and asked for cigarettes,
he told me, "$8.09."

I thought
I must've misheard him
there's no way,
"$8.09."

So I asked him,
"What?"

And he told me,
"$8.09"

Winters Bring the Cold

Lately
everything is drunk

All these people
sitting
empty
empty people
getting drunk

All these shitty ugly people
feeling empty
getting drunk
get more empty

I guess I’ll join
feeling empty
getting
drunk

And we’ll keep drinking
until everything is
empty
until everything
is drunk.

Clearing the Field

I am an old
animal.

I have many
broken bones.

But
if only just the one thing,
I always
carry my pride.
And, I
always have held it
high.

In removing my outsides,
I always use care.
They are hungry
for it,
and I have no room for error.

We are almost done now
with this
harvest.
And
I am old news.

U.S.A., I love you.

Today, I am discontent.
I am sat on
like an angry child.

Today, I am losing.
I am of a battle
built in the complex.

Today I am scared.
Though really, of
nothing I can see.

Today, I am beaten
by less than numbers
by faceless giants,
by centuries of old
white
men.

Fever

the red moon is falling all over
and the insects
the creatures and people
all buzz

the traffic grows louder
the colors, the clothing
grows louder

women’s legs
everyday
smooth
ankles running up to asses

and my eyes climb and fall
eyes climb
fall
just for the thrill of the look

old men sitting
by rivers and channels
rods to the wind
lines drawn back then
thrown

into the river
reels cast
reels sit
waiting for victory
a tug
the thrill of the catch

new season
and the moon falls all over

Thrown to the Ground

I'm gonna laugh now
as you're choking
gasping
reaching for that air
knee against your chest

It's just a business matter
that you're purple
that you're red

It's not the matter
of amount

It's not
relationships

It's just a matter of
five dollars

Give it to me, bitch.

I'd rather listen to talk radio

This is obviously a Country-Western
Only you
haven't taken
our dog
my things

no
I don't drive
a pickup

chrome-plated
bumper
rearview
'84
am/fm
bench seat

And yes
there's dust on
the bedpost
level
the high speed

Roadside flowers
through
and on.

One
punch-line

there are no cowboys
in Boston
our unfulfilled
wish

I can't keep that woman in the bed...

I cracked a bone that echoed, deep
and on forever
like a drop into a well.

Like I'm some kind of man
to be fixed.
Like I'm some kind
of end to a dream.

Today I cracked a bone that echoed.
I let loose through teeth.