Friday, August 21, 2009

Quote Verbatim Quote Sic

Rust Belt

Narrow gauge pantaloons begat the Roaring Twenties
Rugged-up to drown buggies
And sashaying mistresses
The loop couldn't stop the derringer on its way to heaven

Brooding nightstick...

Old oxy needed a gauzy jazz blimp
So the story goes, a slimeball idiom
On its way to Prohibition

Big nouns standing around, unfettered, unlettered, old father grime
Was it you, Ducky, stole my fibs?

Feelgood race ethics chasing its tail
Aurora in all her mullioned sassafras
Down by the haunted tracks
Descendants be my makeshift
Along the Tuscaloosa

The party of beer butts supports a tough laugh
Kid onus sat back & laughed

Who interviewed the oracle to age-date the slugger
Vocab yr Oshkosh to nipple her bal negre

Sauce me, baby, I got red on my rain
Leaving out the guts part gets me exactly what?

The dream sieve, waking amidships withering fallguy
Night traction, frozen select, cheap eagles, alloy
Space in which reading unravels the share-balance

Taste is adjectival, it worms and stains against the gyro
Give me a cool dry lake any day,
Apple yarns, crennelated barn snarks

Have we passed yet, the magic thrashing fashion-lid?

Sad how rye it makes, albeit on a dud nanny
It amounts to a white / ask me in September

1 comment:

jh said...

it's almost september
i'll be in montana fishing

i am liking these poems
i like the "hip" lingo
and the rhetorical questions imbedded in the "lyrics"

more more