Dog, ya dog,
try to make sense
out of a hurricane,
ejaculate on her belly,
falling on the floor

bound to pride the
way lions are, the lion
that is freedom roars at
the riot-cops--"Destroy
what destroys
you"--
filing insurance claims,
withdrawal fees at ATMs,
banks charging interest
for just about every-
thing. You know, Muhammad
the man not the word
said 'charge no interest
to your brother.'

The hurricane inexplicably
came on her belly,
who's her but liberty?

The sun shines through the rain
That pastes itself onto the wind-
Shield. God brings the rain but
He also brings bigots, liberals,
Cockroaches, famine, life,
Love, let us not forget rain.

The world at large you can wear
On your pinky.

Space Cadets!

C’mon, space cadets! It’s time for another

roundup, one of those hey-it-won’t-be-every-

day-that-I-have-to-do-this-kind-of-things, something

fast like your mother’s pet alligator biting

extraterrestrial radio listeners when they investigate

her cellar in the Bayou for human artifacts to take back

to their extraterrestrial city exhibitions describing

their creations, or conversely, evidence for abuse

and battery of our local ecology, and grounds for

annihilation.

And the Vietnamese children cry for joy

when extraterrestrials made their debut upon

the childrens’ old and broken continent.

I will cry too, if we ever get the chance to meet

our maker, beginning or ending,

and it won’t even matter in the long run

because we’re all being swept away in the

matter recycler black hole that is the sun in

five billion years, which if you’re a fourth or

fifth dimensional being then five billion years

is the blink of an eye, and I long wish

we were defeated by space.

I’d call it the day the music died.

Eliot

TS who shows me fear
in handfuls of dust never
ended up in this town, altho
fear and dust
go hand in hand.
The bum on the corner
of Charleston Blvd. and Lamb,
next to the McDonalds,
he has a mouthful of dust.
Eyeful my eyes are dust.
Her breasts aren't fat cells,
they're dust cells, and even
beyond the neon, all you sinners
are saints covered in dust, fear
handfuls dry, making worse
my unquenchable thirst,
making worse my unquenchable
thirst.

Little girl thinks the meaning to life
is inside the video poker machine.

Nicotine-stench in the caves of
my city's bowels, the city's bowels

big like an all you can eat buffet. Little
girl, take your cashier checks and get

out, past the puddles behind Circus
Circus, past the prostitutes on Industrial,

past the I-15 and the chamber of commerce,
past the lies and into the light.

Outlaw living paycheck to
paycheck, two weeks straight
without common sense.

Outlaw the machines, brightly
colored, noises and levers,
giving people without things
to do less to do, glassy-eyed

patrons, or are you slaves?
toeverything that's wrong
with capitalism.

it's a scam.