New Feckless Eggs

 I'm far enough on food stamps 

Don shove as accoutrements 

Belly swagging 

Dr disturbing deliverance

Love my community 

No prospect every woman my wife 

That's counter intuitive, so dipshit number one

Is going to train the old wreck new trains?    

 Ole McDonald spike a drive, 

E I E you ken,  

And on that road, he cut some brakes, 

E I E you ken 

With some poison here  

And 6 five goon, 

Tearing down the cabin with a fatfuck quack, 

Dragging off the studio 

With our doodlebug whacked, 

Ole macdonald had a spat, 

U I C a kook. 

( Sung, sprightly.)

There, cathartic, again

 Fuckin my friends, our kids all of 3, learning abc 

Fucking the dead landlords wife 

Bathtub beau 

Gave nelms a blow as they moteled it  

Both Junko pardners the same nite, found out at Sarah's wedding when kiddo chipped her tooth 

Ma met squat in an orgy, how'd I know that, cuz another guy came to our booth looking for his fling 

Then when I had  new flame, just 22, maw took her whisky drinking and went for her too 

Don't tell me about crazy don't write off my calluses I've had a firm grip from every rabbits Alice's.

  

Grandma Dorothy died slowly, getting chemotherapy for a brain tumor. She spent the end of life in her bedroom in the only house she'd been in since I was born. I was 18, would drive to Dallas in my 280z, go look at SMU,. Pro tennis match, went there with Kevin my best friend from stillwater. Not the final visits, those were with my mom. Grandma, hairless from chemo, propped up in bed, wig as usual. Was she loopy when she told me I was her favorite? Her husband had his own bedroom, the entire time, since the late 1969s. She had her own bathroom, privacy. Harry Byrd had his xylophone, music room, and his office with cushy recliner chairs that grant and I would watch TV from, served snacks on trays. At the mall nearby, bought the Tracy Chapman album, spun it in the living room, as her final weeks passed. I was out in a field in stillwater the moment Grandma died. There was a dress up funeral, and meeting of the extended family. Great Aunt Ruth paid for my college education in Kansas. Uncle Jim managed assets on my mom's behalf, as she was newly divorced from my father. My mom claims that Harry Byrd was forward with her, inappropriate. It was believably disturbing. I smashed my hand thru a glass. I broke my hand on a wall. There, that's over. And a new life, 19, in Lawrence.

No fatigue

  

An okie refugee, nor where a choice person wannabe 

My soliloquy dumb founded

Pound on pewter ringdaling spiro mounded 

Mama earth, Venus de Milo

De villandorf 99.9 per kilo 

There's less stollen than challah 

Greasy gripe listz dame dolla  

Not up to flee, back to t league 

There be no fatigue.

  How many hamburgers we brought to Grandpa Ralph at the nursing home, wake him up, surprise him. Fast food but a step different than the institutionalized plops. He smoked in his room, no tv whatsoever that I recall, 1984, there were 4 stations including PBS. Braums had the best burger and fries that we'd usually enjoy, years before in his last rental home, he'd walk brother and I there, with ice cream if not entrees. It's not poetry, it's not porn or titillating political theory. It's treats. Some wax on the hood after a machine carwash. The dust returns, so what, or mud. With pickles.

Magnet

 

There's live music, electric guytards with awkward stage banter. I have the best seat, a booth on a riser. Two beautiful women ask if they can sit, of course, I respond. I'm phone engaged, reading, texting. We all drink. We eventually introduce ourselves, Anna and....um.... Courtney? Wrong. Men are staring at Not Courtney, she's stunning. About 40, long wavy strawberry blonde. Small chest, tall, in a rock t shirt. Men try their luck, approach, leave. Who cares. I hear her name, as Christine peels off her glue on nails. We drink. I mind my own business. She swats away the barflies with grace and patience and smiles. A third pretty woman sits. They're slipping rings off their fingers, about 10, trying them all around. There's no rings on Christine. The band cheers on their buddies in the audience. "Hey, it's Waylund Jennings!" He's a handsome guy, of course he tries his luck, tells me I'm lucky to be seated with beautiful women. It's my table, I offer. He bats zero. Men can't help but stare and try. It's stupid. She has a boy, she tells him to ride his bike, I half hear. Who cares. The nails are goyne, she's thrown them under the table.  

Classy. Waylund keeps asking me what his name is. I spell it. He asks more. Loudmouth, I reply. That shuts his yap. 

 It's four twenty. The loons dive and flounder. I close the bar as our super bartender kicks everyone out. Another night of no consequence, other to remind me of my married life, how being possessive is a constant drain. 

 It's my table. Take a number, try your luck. 

https://www.geni.com/people/William-Jennings/6000000008630921519

Canned

 The grounds a carpeted in cherry petals 

Precursor of pit harder than metal 

The sky sunshine blue make my heart swoon 

For the succulent dish that trees give bloom 

        *** 

A long coldwet morn that's what's in store 

I get out my fiddle to play my chore 

Making some dough that's on my agenda 

As the union passes handbills the color magenta 

    ***

There's trouble at the co op, the boss from Wyoming  

Walks his dog round the food a leash on a leash pretending 

Control isn't too down to members who built 

Every day stock cans, boxes, produce without guilt 

        *** 

What's the reward just ten laid off 

The shelves half bare with the empty time cough

The security guard hovers not over the registers box

But over the canned workers grievant hard knocks

         *** 

I took back to the store the bbtwas purchased 

It's not my style here's my receipt I'm no conscript 

I got back my cash, spent it on beer 

Out of harms way, loaded with cheer 

      *** 

Cheer up you cherry

There's birds on the way 

Love get loaded with optimism sway  

Don't crack a tooth on speaking the truth 

El Paso we pass thru each moment uncouth  

Pitch in the long haul 

None said it's all berries

The spine and arms numbfrom 

Cantilevered poses  

Bruise not or blemish the strawberry skin 

Tom Joad still walks with a rucksack grin  

A tarpaper hovel that's more than enough 

To house the betterhalfs stuff  

There's blame in the wind and confetti cloud anger 

Each buck a scissor the shopper dangles  

I'll park for a carrot and cafe olay my dry cleaning 

As shopping cart settlers do their gleaning  

Conscience is clear, I gave up a dollar 

To the slumped cardboard sign to ward off a holler 

My wine by the case and veal in white paper 

By most novels a conspicuous caper 

Do you know the tune desolation row 

Here's all my change have it a Gogh 

  

I've lost my power she said 

Encapsulating reality 

Succinctly, in a whirl of incoherence 

Did you get my package 

Too deep to fathom with a dearth of oxygen and retinue of gaspy happy drugs 

Reaching toward Ritz ungrasped 

Or a last fling to the new people in scrubs,  

A change of scenery bleak but preferable 

Flew the cuckoo nest to perch in a vulture amusement park 

Free, too free, too powerful 

To subdue. 

____ 

 Little Boy Nazis, too powerful to imbue with other, 

Decrepit focus on infinitesimal nihilism 

A Germanic fairytale 

Susceptible to imprinting 

An easy target with a streusel tooth, there at NASA, Hanford, Alamogordo

Mom a month old as her great uncle developed the oil to crush the foe 

Into new plastic forms cosmetics, fertilizer, jet fuel,  

Too powerful and beyond control, mind diverting rationality 

Father zapped away but still there, injustice became the standard measure,  

Books and an early marriage to my father homesteading among like hippy  

The back to earth pinnacle works for awhile, as the not sees grow back spore by koch by spore.

______

  

The eyes, ’fore duteous, now converted are

From his low tract and look another way.

 ___ 

Duteous to a squalor of heart, rent by money 

Liquid faithful flees 

Down gravity's boob unto lips willful honey 

Tongued please. 

Impurient sensibility thou art buys all censor 

Approbation in corner stalls, rounded by crow 

Pecking the walnut clean it's denser 

As every physicist know. 

The original a palimpsest of long deleted quality

Our template an etchasketch in pearl immortal 

Views thru a sea of diamond infinity 

Memory transcribes eternal. 

 

We pass and are handed around in hail Mary 

Beermugs for a pinch of elements quarry.

 

Sleep as must view disparate parts of that which squats mind 

Uninvitedly unguarded 

To share most personal entropy or surplus from the banquet life affords 

Rest delivers a demon hornless dream, no less than sharing a bed with an unmannered tyrant 

With another body in between 

Then gone, leaving me alone with seditions detritus pawned soul 

Fat corpuscle half laid on my torso, nothing more, but in trespass nonetheless

I say I'm moving over the other way, that's the dream 

The wrongest person ever in my backyard brain 

As perpetual rain and diminishment prevails in regular hard scrabble life

 Exasperation articulation 

Wanna medal for participation 

Put ya in a spell manipulation 

Man up you lotion 

Read in a haze of trafficjamification 

Drama reticulation accordion jester 

Gotta look back rearview mirror fixation, cuz comprehension is not your forte fortification 

Treat yourself to a gratification 

Open Pandora's box get an elucidation 

You can't teach edification to doctor Aunt so put some spin in the spine excavation 

It's there sumwhere 

Under all the zeros, favors muy guapo leads to hesitation 

You took the reins without notification cuz that's the modus operandi situation 

So pay attention commodification, 

Step back the education of one on par with deification 

Here under a tree we don't need notification, got squirrel and owl participation 

If healings the goal in family unification