Mail Count
The greek chorus boys
signing minor chord
lyrics of negation
are riled when it starts
because the count is often rigged
because management-
vague praying mantis, skin shedding
corporate like
entities-
have a thousand ways
to impact mail flow
and mail is worth minutes
and minutes
change pay
accruing as kid's braces, rib roasts,
and moments of elegance
in our greek chorus lives.
We had two hard weeks
of presorts
and then the flow dried
for day and a half
and me a steward
hungover
tabletop cardboard-cutout bodisatvah.
Watching dodging angling punching.
And then the flow came again
wonderful, sweetlousy torrents of mail
squeezing respective grands
off respective teats
and still the niptuck
Bonnie
stupid
raised through the army
from southern deep poverty
and swelling here
in refractive analyisis
Bonnie
totally possessive.
Hungry.
Sick of poor.
And me sick of mail.
Cornered by altruism.
Suckling to
moral definition
in a universe where definition
isn't.
I take Bonnie under my wing.
I speak as straight as I can.
And every speak
is a speak
before an audience of fifty.
But that don't matter.
I'm pure
as you.
And I tell Bonnie what I've made
happen for her.
And don't mention that she
is not a union member
or that I'm wearing
with this giving it ass up
daily.
Cause she don't care.
She has no conception
but isn't that just karma philosophy
for me?
Ultimate angle-
Give don't take.
law behind law.
Maybe.
Watch the butterfly wing
angle prismatic against the sun
and disappear
into the court.
**********************************************
Reasonable
Reasonable
is when your
liver
wants you to drink
more water
and so you do.
**********************************************
The Tyranny of Love
If I can't have perfect love
I want no love at all.
After the Union Meeting
stoned on U.P. U.S. I-75
watching the trees pass
like traffic signs
for fairies.
I am a fairy tonight.
Leaving behind
a ghost of a brother hug
with my friend Tom
a marine airlifted out of Da Nang.
tooth-spare, hairy-bear, love-hugging
Tom
who fights,
"asshole corporate bloodsuckers, now."
We
burned a big one
in his Indian nation
Casino hotel room.
Walking to the elevator
Tom announces,
"Man-I love this place
you can walk anywhere
with an open fifth of scotch
and buy a pack of smokes
while you're smoking a lit one.
Its another nation out there,"
pointing out the window
at the amerikan soo night lights
burdening the cold night fog.
A cautious white-haired
playing woman
clutching her pail of quarters
a scream's length behind us.
"They should make pot legal here, it'd be another Amsterdam."
In the lobby
when I hug Tom,
we are hugging the hug
of fighting for love
as absurd, anomalous
union stewards
lit
by the glint
of the tiger's teeth.
I am a love fairy tonight.
**********************************************
No Edge
There is no edge
it's only plain;
creaking wagon sound
on the edge
of sleep
Juries
like ripened pistachios
on shared limbs
in the carthage bite
of a late fall wind
everyone is carrying
careful
watch
your
demented laughter
Obsolescent
the day.
Moist crackers
knowing.
**********************************************
politics and love
Big white
eye
this screen
conduit to
valhallaic
sex
breaker of government
gnostic liberator of the opinion
corporate prick bangle
is this
like
the ching
may i fling it
will my dreams
drip
from my eyes
talk to a mouse
just out of harm's way
otherwise,
it's politics
and love.
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