-
-
-
Go baby go go
-
-
-
Right behind the blurbs pressing, after teriyaki boy binging and decaf latte wanting a massage--- twittering isn't against the rules of these engagements---- twat, qwat, style the strange love, Slim Harpo sounding like a chipmunk on harmonica soused
-
-
-
Driving Miss Mea
-
-
-
To say that Miss needs rest after the hours making the voice hoarse, the calls in the backseat, the meetings and engagements after all these hours, the absence now being noted, the sighs that no one hears or sees except the smiles and laughs barking out, trips delayed for when the clock fell apart the world has become unhinged from the core screwed over by the super croak
-
-
-
That shrill laughter of "Boo!" or "Wahahahaha!" or "Boowahahahaha!" Driver, drive on. Driver is asking what is driving Miss on. Why, look outside, see that? It needs jobs. You need a job: Your job now is to listen to how each name on endless lists is ulcer gutting. Your job is now to track which places and faces Miss would frequent. Your job reports, "No Ma'am, Miss is not drinking everyday. Miss, in fact, was crying in the backseat the other night. I dare not ask why." The Order orders back, "Just let her be when it gets like that and bring her home..." for Miss has been driven away, driven away, into that silence that has become her
-
-
-
Miss, I am here to make sure that you end up going home safely... Unlike that one night that Woody and Aussie were lighting up to you with tugshak, tugshak, tugshak... No, No, That was business generating a mambo
-
-
-
In Evil City
-
-
-
There was a warning: Take care of her Loco and make sure she comes home. Or else-----
-
-
-
Ali is woken up at all hours of devilry to check if pills and water and fruits are being taken instead of all these junk. No, Ali says, It is not right to say that "The rug was pulled under you..." Because it feels like the world was pulled under you. Righto, Bucko, Steady but sporadically shaky. One of the goddamn pills bombed, by the way, and the bleeding began again even when there's no longer enough blood. Where did your blood go? Why, to the you and you and you and to the clock that has sucked
-
-
-
The Love Song of '07
-
-
-
If you were making a deal with the sickest son of a bitch of them all, you should have said so. For it would not be well: It would be hell: I don't bargain with that sick son of a bitch: I cannot be bargained with that sick son of a bitch: I don't want to swap my place ever with any of you for you won't want to hear that sick son of a bitch's laughter you son of a bitch
-
-
-
Mother, you would be proud
-
-
-
In the ICU, the most prodigal of grandchildren unexpectedly enters and asks, "Well, Mama, why are you here? C'mon, get well! Oh god, I can now see what Mommy will look like when she's as old as you...How I would look...Not bad, Mama!" And the dying laughs, death delayed by the heart beat becoming stronger.
-
-
-
Grandmother's hand held close to the cheek, says, "I love you." The hand says back, "I love you, Igin," and blows a kiss when the hand said goodbye and that it will come back. It has been four years now since the prodigal grandchild has returned...Slowly...Still unable to forget... Still unforgotten as one of the most loved grandchildren who's been wringing her blood dry off the blood that made her so
-
-
-
"And when will you marry? Soon? I will come, you know, I will come..." The hand trembles, says, "Of course you will...Soon, Mama...Soon..."
-
-
-
Mother cries
-
-
-
I have been praying, Mother says, And have been going to three masses. It is time...It is time...It is time to heal...You didn't tell me she died...And you left, all alone there... It was good to be away, Mother, It was good...I slept..I laughed...I was soothed...I was gifted with a sky and sea of lightning...There was peace for a time...Are you breathing easier now, Daughter? Yes, Mother, And pray that the rage put to sleep will not wake up.
-
-
-
Father, don't be mad
-
-
-
If Father could, he would like to hold this daughter close to him and rocked once more like a child, to ease that pain... The way he held his first granddaughter close to him in the rocking chair when she fell and hurt her knee until she quieted. But Father instead smokes with this daughter and speaks calmly of what all went wrong. The daughter laughs, says, "I love him... Now you really have to live longer. No resignations accepted."
-
-
-
Consensus
-
-
-
Will not be allowed to break; Not after all these years we've been fighting...Please God, no more for her...No more for her...No more for her, damn it...
-
-
-
All be steady; Do what's necessary; Have I ever left you? To the sometimes blurted out in the midst of silence, "Don't leave me, okay? Too many have left already..."
-
-
-
Raging clucks of the tongue declaring that one won't break, in the same voice that declared, "I swear I will fucking kill you myself if you don't eat!"
-
-
-
It is all right, right?
-
-
-
To feel as if something was finally cut and something has stopped...To not feel..."It is all right," the Devil Incarnate says, "To feel that it died."
-
-
-
The carcass left
-
-
-
Dancing to what is being buried. Look at the leaking fiesta. Look at all these clustering sons of bitches... The fucks... Burning that running bill in your head...
-
-
-
Baby, my darling, it's my Guy's birthday today and November wants all songs entitled "Someday"
-
-
-
Tip...Tap
No comments:
Post a Comment