Monday, December 26, 2016

Spider Web (Tribute to Sibila Petlevski)



The spider web has stretched its perfection
Between the green shoot and the old branch.
The weak and the strong hold the threads together.
The lights have become entangled and now
This scene resembles dust within a radius
Of sunshine on an ordinary summer afternoon. Without being so.
Chance creates its worlds as
A flame whose blue and white outline

Undulates around the head of the fire. This seems light as
a spider web. Without being so.*



*Poem By Sibila Petlevski
Translation: Henry Kanabus

Saturday, December 24, 2016

On African Genesis

They arrested me for being
as aggressive as a GUN

A one month binge
the amputation whore
and the Histories

Have defined me
as would a grimoire
and has me watching snuff flicks
where the chick hardly breathes

presenting her ass
like a baboon
to a dominant male

He was gone 15 minutes
and she fucked 2 times

Why is that important
pussy is a renewable resourse

I hate the Romans
I'm from Byzantine origin

A killer ape
with a gun and a Mind

The tools primative man made
were all weapons.




Friday, November 25, 2016

Anfang 3 and Warhol’s Planet


Alex is doing a soliloquy
telling of seducing teen girls
as the white assed red haired
beauty gets Blacked
He’s working his way to taking her up the ass
but cums on her face instead
she’ll be back
licking her face and fingers
She’s adoring this nigger

An unfinished film
shown to survivors
who miss it meaningfully
and she might see family in the Warsaw ghetto
fish heads floating across
the horizon of her talmud eyes

Are we rich yet
do we have paisley wallpaper
and jewish tits
on garish divans
Vid this
my little brothers

Frag dancing
to the sanguine yard
fenced with shrubs of razor wire

One pistol shot and they run
sheep, though I
shorn and starving
for the camera
obscure on a tripod
of 2 jack boots and a Will
fisted with
permutations of memory.





Saturday, October 29, 2016

Black Death

(fleas on distraught rats)

"An abundance of clothes
whereof we furnished ourselves
of as much we as desired
at a very cheap rate"

The Baptist bathes
in the blood of the dead Zealot.

and comes on Sunday
in rapture bliss.





Thursday, October 27, 2016

Clear The Range II (A Sequel) @009


"Well, he's a tough bird," said Jed.

"Looks like a harmless old cuss . but mean," says I.

"About this trip," said Jed, after I'd saddled and coiled my rope .
"don't, and say you did."

I didn't answer this, but led my horse to the gate.

"Well, don't say as how I didn't tell you all about it," said Jed,
going back to the bunk house.

Miserable old coot! I suppose he thought he had told me all about it!
Jed was always too loquacious!

But I hadn't racked along more than two miles before a man cantered up
who was perfectly able to express himself.
He was one of our outfit and was known as Windy Bill. Nuff said!

"Hear you're goin' up to stay the night at Hooper's," said he. "Know Hooper?"

"No, I don't," said I, "are you another of these Sunbirds with glad news?"

"Know about Hooper's boomerang?"

"Boomerang!" I replied, "what's that?"

"That's what they call it. You know how of course we all let each other's strays
water at our troughs in this country,
and send 'em back to their own range at round up."

"Brother, you interest me," said I, "and would you mind informing me further how you tell
the dear little cows apart?"

"Well, old Hooper don't, that's all," went on Windy, without paying me any attention.
"He built him a chute
leading to the water corrals

and half way down the chute he built a gate that would swing across it
and open a hole into a dry corral.
And he had a high platform with a handle that ran the gate.

When any cattle
but those of his own brands came along,
he had a man swing the gate and they landed up into the dry corral.

By and by
he let them out on the range again."

2.

"Without water?"

"Sure! And of course back they came into the chute.

And so on.
Till they died, or we came along
and drove them back home."

"Windy," said I, "you're stuffing me full of tacks."

"I've seen little calves lyin' in heaps against the fence

like drifts of tumbleweed," said Windy, soberly;
and then added, without apparent passion,
"The old prick!"

Looking at Windy's face, I knew these words for truth.

"He's a bad hombre," resumed Windy Bill after a moment.

"He never does no actual killing himself, but he's
got a bad lot of oilers there,

especially an old one named Andreas
and another one called Ramon,

all he has to do is to lift one eye at a man he don't like
and that man is as good as dead . one time or another."

This was going it pretty strong, and I grinned at Windy Bill.

"All right," said Windy, "I'm just telling you."

"Well, what's the matter with you fellows down here?" I challenged.

"How is it he's lasted so long?
Why hasn't someone shot him?
Are you all afraid of him or his Mexicans?"

"No, it ain't that, exactly. I don't know.

He drives by all alone, and he don't pack no gun ever,
and he's sort of runty . I don't why he ain't been shot,
but he ain't. And if I was you,
I'd stick home."

Windy amused but did not greatly persuade me.

By this time I was fairly conversant
with the cowboy's sense of humor.
Nothing would have tickled them more
than to bluff me out of a harmless excursion
by means of scareful tales.

Shortly Windy Bill turned off to examine a distant bunch of cattle;
and so I rode on alone.

It was coming on toward evening.

Against the eastern mountains were floating tinted mists;
and the capons were a deep purple.

The cattle were moving slowly
so that here and there a nimbus of dust caught
and reflected the late sunlight into gambol yellows and mauve.

The magic time was near when the fierce,
implacable day-genius of the desert would fall asleep

and the soft, gentle, beautiful star-eyed night-genius of the desert would arise
and move softly.

My pony racked along in the desert.
The mass that represented
Hooper's ranch drew imperceptibly nearer.


I made out the green of trees
and the white of walls and building.

It was time to dope up
and Clear The Range.

3.

The comet hit at precisely 7:42 PM
Its head was fury at high speed and tension;
and its tail was the light alkali dust of Arizona
mingled with the station agent.
No irresistible force and immovable
body proposition in mine .  I gave to the impact.

"Why, sure, I got 'em for you," I answered.

"You left your dope lying around loose
so I took care of it for you.
As for your bag; you seemed to set such store by it

that I got that for you, too."

This deflated that particular enterprise for the moment, anyway.

The station agent, too mad to spit, departed
before he should be tempted beyond his strength to resist homicide.

"I suppose you're taking care of my gun for me, too," said Jed

but his irony was weak.
He was evidently off the boil.

"Your gun?" I echoed. "Have you lost your gun?"

He passed his hand across his eyes.

His super-excitement had passed, leaving him weak and nervous.
Now was the time for my counter-attack.

"Here's your gun," said I,

"didn't want to collect any lead while you were excited,
and I've got your dope," I repeated,
"in a safe place." I added,
"and you'll not see any of it again until you answer me a few questions,
and answer them straight."

"If you think you can roll me for blackmail," he came back with some decision, "you're left a mile."

"I don't want a cent; but I do want a talk."

"Shoot," said he.

"How often do you have to have this dope

for the best results . and how much of it at a shot?"

He stared at me for a moment, then laughed.

"What's it to you?" he repeated his formula.

"I want to know."

"I get to needing it about once a day.

Three grains will carry me by, my Man."

Fucking dope fiend, I thought
Can't leave his room
without a dose and his Pepsi.

I had time traveled again

4.

"All right. That's what I want to know.
Now listen to me. I'm custodian of this dope,
and you'll get your regular fix
as long as you stick with me."

"I can always hop a train.

This ain't the only hamlet on the map," he reminded me.

"That's always what you can do if you find we can't work together.

That's where you've got me if my
proposition doesn't sound good."

"What is your proposition?" he asked after a moment.

"Before I tell you, I'm going to give you a few pointers on what you're up against.

I don't know how much you
know about Old Man Hooper,

but I'll bet there's plenty you don't fucking know about."

I proceeded to tell him something of the old man's methods,

from the "boomerang"
to vicarious murder.

"And he gets away with it?" asked Jed when I had finished.

"He certainly does," said I.

"Now," I continued, "you may be solid as a brick church,
and your plans may be water-tight,
and old Hooper may kill the fatted four-year-old, for all I know.
But if I were you, I wouldn't go
sashaying all alone out to Hooper's ranch.


It's altogether too blame confiding and innocent."

"If anything happens to me,

I've left directions for those contracts to be recorded," he pointed out.
"Old Hooper knows that."

"Oh, sure!" I replied, "just like that!

But one day your trustworthy friend back yonder
will get a letter in your well-known hand-write
that will say that all is well
and the goose hangs high,
that the old man is a prince and
has come through,

and that in accordance with the nice,
friendly agreement you have reached he . your friend
will hand over the contract to a very respectable lawyer
herein named, and so forth and so on, ending
with your equally well-known John Hancock."

"Well, that's all right."

"I hadn't finished the picture.

In the meantime, you will be getting
out of it
just one good swift kick, and that is all."

"I shouldn't write any such letter.

Not 'till I felt the feel of the dough."

"Not at first you wouldn't," I said, softly.

"Certainly not at first. But after a while you would.
These renegade Mexicans . like Hooper's Ramon, for example
know a lot of rotten little tricks. They drive pitch-pine splinters
into your legs and set fire to them

Or make small cuts in you with a knife, and load them up
with powder squibs in oiled paper--

so the blood won't wet them--and touch them off.
And so on. When you've been shown about ten percent,
of what old Ramon knows about such things, you'll write most
any kind of a letter."

"My God!" he muttered, thrusting the ridiculous derby to the back of his head.

"So you see you'd look sweet walking trustfully into Hooper's claws.

That's what that newspaper ad was meant for.
And when the respectable lawyer who wrote that contract had been delivered,
do you know what would happen to you?"

The ex-jockey shuddered.








Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Mungo Woman



Its not about You and your fake mysteries
Its about 'The Lord'

The answer to being baptized in Moses
was two verses down
Let the little children come unto Me
but you'd rather be a Dom
and play John The Baptist
and lie
("speak to me after my performance")
pull that shit on Meyer
not Me
Fuck your pageant and agenda

I'm done feeling pissed after mass
Your way too ignorant to be a preacher
and too fouled to baptize anyone.

(i.e. I wouldn't let you wash my socks, bitch)

2.

A moat surrounds your barn
your hubris has ruined the hood
of these country people

.

The Pastor Harry is waging a Crusade
against my trees, my land
has rutted an Eisengruppen
trench . we all wait for your crested draw-bridge

I'm not a Muslim infidel, lady
keep your fucking chain saws off my property

I said you could cut the branches
Not the trees
or gouge my earth with back hoes

Your inept forestry eunuch
is not pruning
he's hacking

"Tree Dicks" (branches cut in the middle)
are everywhere

Your tax free 'church' property
is not gonna infringe on my land
like some desert brain-fried
lost tribe of Israel

Inbred fundamentalist
computer-dating arrogant
husband castrating poser
that you are

In the days of the Christ
you would have been muzzled chattel.






Wednesday, October 19, 2016

InLand Empire

I stole an Autumn fly
from a spider web in my front yard
to feed my treefrog

on the 18th of October
in the year of 2016

Yes, Al
I am still alive

I was high on synthetic opioid...
Put your warrants away, officer Joe
the dope is legal (prescribed meds)
and the land is mine

Two yapping dogs from the perjurer's fenced pigsty
confronted me like dying rats

I drew my sheathed dog-whistle
and blew them away
with an inaudible {to man}
insect sound
                       a pissed wasp, lets say

The day was overcast
with low nimbus clouds

"It looks like rain"
a farmer would say

I heard that only
one time this year
"we could use the rain"
a woman had said

"Are you a farmer?"  I said
"No, but we could use the moisture."
"You mean the humidity."

I remembered a day when it had rained
in the morning
for less than an hour
The rest of the day was hot and sunny

with the liquid stench like a swamp
and breathing as if under water
in a lost little town

Down South.