Poem 137 : nerve endings

a twitching knot of bloodshot
nerve-endings
made to sit for the entire length
of Beethoven's 9th

rough skin at the bottom of the cell

Hamburg in flames

Poem 136: L Y R I X

I got "La figura di Eros"
in my head
I got byzantine jeff
in my head
I got Andronikos Contoblakas
in my head

and I owe a soul to the BAV

I got  “some pretty severe things” in my head

I got a big wet sofa
in my head
I got Argos's ear infection
in my head
I got a blackberry bramble
in my head

and one of the goats is losing weight

I got  “some pretty severe things” in my head

I got the USA
in my head
I got discount fireworks
in my head
I got a one-horned goat skull
in my head

and I haven't done my taxes yet

I got “some pretty severe things” in my head

I got a mutilated manatee
in my head
I got a neglected banjo
in my head
I got another dead rat
in my head

damn

I got  “some pretty severe things”
in my head

Poem 135: The 5th of July

unexpended ordnance
from last evening's
explody
detonates
          all around
sulphur billows
low to the ground
the chickens are wide awake
Argos is under the bed

goddammit
save your ammo

when--and it will--shit gets wiggy
in the streets
after two-hundred-whatever years
of human events
    and people are drinking piss
         and eating dog
you're going to wish
you had those cherry bombs

Poem 134: In State

within a plastic bag
enclosed in golden paper
is a rat I killed
having baited the trap
with a hershey's
kiss

the bag is on the porch
the next phase of his journey cannot begin
until tomorrow
if you will ask me why
it's because the garbage doesn't come
on the fourth of july

Poem 133: Lake of Fire

Cuckoo birds and souls of the damned
in their wobbly flights
once again--tomorrow--
will have made their laborious journey
through untold hells
forcing themselves
through the bowels of elements
to be seen

in the form of exploding nugae
and flaming trifles

which is all just the signs
of their yearly splashdown
back into the lake of fire

like many such brief returns
to the realms of light
it's over in a flash

which doesn't mean
it can't blow your face off

Poem 132: Ghost

A meth-ghost she was
at least I thought it was
'she' but truly
it skills not
to gender the meth-ghost

as insubstantial as a bag of bones can be
a carp-like mouth
skull in jagged detail
hollowed out eyes
almost too
fucked-up to see

but human I suppose
and I suppose American

though there is nothing to be found,
nor shall there be, in terms of relief
no coverage for her methed-up teeth
or any plan
for the physical damage
of which she is somewhere near the center

Poem 131: Do Snakes Like Chocolate

Mr. President, do snakes like chocolate?

We moved Daniel to the barn
when we discovered him burning daylight
in front of the studio

he made for the logs
but it was a charade
we all know there's no work back there

we gathered is long oily ass
into a wicker basket
put the lid on
and moved him to the barn
laid the basked on its side
and removed the lid:
and I am proud

to report that Daniel crawled
right into the rat hole
under the rabbit hutch

this was two days ago
and that is why I have to know
if snakes enjoy chocolate
for be he never so lazy at eating rats
I do not wish to harm
poor Daniel
or otherwise jeopardize our relationship
by killing him

and I am going to have to lay some traps