source of encouragement


Really, the story’s very simple, a blood sample
from an epic: Rodman was the pointman. He dropped
the axe into the leaves and woke the wildcat:

“is this where the white women are at?”

Monday morning’s when I refine my
keyboard strokes. the vein in my brain goes
beep beep beep beep beep beep KAPOW!
smithereens of Mozart, please take a bow, for
this cockfight’s colder than the chamber of commerce;
Paul Newman is cooler than the hot flowing java in
that volcano movie. The Pink Wedge in Trivial Pursuit
tapped out too quickly; send me the bill.

Where are genies hanging out nowadays?
in VCRs and answering machines? in the
revenant retail rummage of Korvettes and Bamberger’s?
it’s not happening, it’s not coincidental, it’s not
in the textbooks under “Parliamentary Incidental”.
it’s your first real, true, hard look at the bait on the hook.

Man, dig that death wiggle, that death dance in the spotlight,
in the streetlamp, live feed of war, rocket point of view.
how do you handle a heckler with an M-16?
Bill Hicks with a popsicle stick and
Surplus Southern Baptist Inferno Lemonade
poured into a dirty glass. I think Zevon previously sipped that nectar.

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