Monthly Archives: October 2019

A Bowl Of Bruised Fruit

You have a bowl 
of bruised fruit.
A cloud of tiny flies.
A smell.

Some of it looks
salvageable. Some of it
is clearly spoiled. How much
of the rest is imminently beyond help

is yet unknown and the thought
of sorting it, taking each piece
and finding it soft
and rotten, finding its stain

upon your high and mighty hand?
You aren’t ready. You step away,
the brandied rot of the bowl
hanging in your nostrils.

It’s going to get worse
before it gets better, you know,
but if you ignore it
maybe someone else

will do the necessary dirty work
that lies ahead and you can pretend,
at least to yourself,
that you never knew. 


Three Chords And

Massively revised from 2008, 2015.  Original title, “It’s The ‘Spangled’ That We Love About That Song.”

once you were a chucked salt berry
a fogerty full of sloppy chords
a skip to my lou reed

then you got all slippery
with your own clean sauce

tossed out your faded paper bag

of dark wanderings
bought your commercial anthem
from the fluorescent aisle

come back to your game desire
come slaphappy sharp
to the war against plastic

you used to have
a mouth full of splinters

honored dingbat and idiot

and all those
who broke the social charm
with a fart

you were gas monster
huffer of free roaches
smoker of the right goddamn herbs

who feared not death
when it came through charred fences
borne on tornado cellar blown open

you were the scent
of acorn porridge

delta mysterious

that devil in the crossroads
still valued
your willing ass

you used to not be such a freak for safety
you used to not be
such a doom escape

children
hate you more
now that you’re safer

not a scrap
of care left
for your tradition

we love some of you still
even with your
crystal fraud hippie faking

and your
wall street loving
gutterpunk

bite me
or better yet 
infect yourself

be the sick fuck we loved to love
no matter how bad
you made us feel