Hyper Thick Compression Sticks
like Jesus the lost Apostle begotten from Zen
and carved from Chi balancing
in/ rainbows cherub voices fugue
like “smile” on the cutting room floors
of Billboard’s Top Forty
yeah yeah he hates these cans
and exchoooose me
blunderfoot and bubblehead bounces
in consumption spirals blank
syncopated like cannonball adderly
but a poor man’s version
that’s what I like
make it sparse
make it important
on a hillside at 3 am tingles
trickling spinewords in pinewood caskets
and baskets of wings
clipped by Missus Obstacles
in spent little pentagrams of white chalk dust
escaping
so ignore my days
ignore my gaze
not meant for you
just left over from
another’s reflection bouncing like time
while swinging on vines
or am i a doorbell
ringing
an instant classic that won’t be read on the radio
a stale bread masterpiece with caribou meat
and chalice
balanced at the first supper table’s edge where no one was betrayed in gospel tones and tent revivals
where god gets paid like the mob boss we make him out to be
in harmony off bathroom walls and corridors bleached
meat equals cake
bread equals life
egg is soul
fork is this memory of college before it went bad
and you got lost between the coats, toads and racists
oh bitch face it this dress ain’t for me
magnificent though it is
so go on ignoring
keep on ignoring
me
unintended tragedy singular and hollow
like being lied to at nineteen
when it meant so much
another small gray American upbringing
howling in cracked panes and coarse wood
in roadside shacks beside your car
meditating in motion
and crushing forces
