Piano Cat

poor old piano cat

smoking the night

away

caressing the white and black

with a cool rain attitude

"Blue Moan in C"

hazy eyes focus unfocused

heat rises pavement simmers

poor old alley cat

told the people

"things are gettin' mighty hot"

over the hot blue telephone

dissonant and wise

poor old piano cat

he's thunder

he's jazz

My Meat

Roll my eyes in silence,

down a rusty, dusty stairwell,

into the lower depths,

do it with panache, please.

oh -

and make sure the basement dwelling dogs

are hungry for my meat.

Killer Apples

screams like hellfire.

women like whores.

the moon is a swamp.

killer apples.

don't eat them.

Hump Day Haiku Vol. 16

Knock thrice for great friends.
There's Ralph the Sleaze, Erne the Eel,
And Nate the Strangler.

Hump Day Haiku Vol. 16

pumpernickel bread

slide ham between the slices

hump it on your bed

Sailing

Through the corbeled arch of slime

I suck upon a wild lime

an old man greets me at the shore

opening a Golden Door.

He slams my head upon a pike

and shanks my body with a spike

he shakes his beard into my face

where is this place? where is this place?

My spirit floats above the world

answers questions doubts unfurl

my head exploding fifty-fold

I am the sky so I've been told.

And back into that dreadful cave

I make the bearded man my slave

build me fifty-thousand men

And I will spin the earth again.

LeGrande's Last Dream

It wasn't just a different kind of food,

It was a different kind of man,

lying on my candlelit table,

gasping for breath, 'c'est la vie'

because it's his God-given right,

to resist the air of oppression,

and the suffocation,

of a good night's eat.

Martin J. LeGrande

I.

Martin had a hand

but he cut it at the bone

he threw it in the fridge

so when his wife came home

she thought it was a turkey

and served it on a plate

when the mighty mighty Fergusons

came over for a date.

II.

They all began the feasting

Madame Ferguson proclaimed

'the swine - est savoureux

but the turkey - molto strange!'

Colonel Ferguson concurred

spit the meat out on the floor

'it's a crime against humanity

this turkey is piss poor!'

III.

Martin J. Legrande

raised his stump into the air

his bloody bleeding wrist

made him look so débonnaire

he bled all over Ferguson's militaire tuxedo

as all the dinner guests

spewed forth beefy meat torpedos.

IV.

He bled out in the corner of his finely furnished basement

Martin J. Legrande's last words

'enfin, I've made my statement!'

Tobacco

Give me a field, I'll grow you tobacco.

Give me a tree, I'll carve you a pipe.

Give me a chair, we'll smoke it together.

Don't treat me wrong or I'm bound to take your life.

My Library Valentine

Will you be my Library Valentine?
Neither one of us has dates, non-literary ones I mean.
I see you over there, in the romance novel section
busily scanning lovers' texts.
You're pretty cute, I guess...
I'm over here in the manga aisle, watching oriental automatons fight.
Let's meet halfway, in the romance manga section;
we can watch oriental robots love.
Together, you and me.
I heard Hemingway met Welsh in a library.
He browsed the Vaudeville papers, she the Blues quarterlies.
So, will you be my Library Valentine?
We can finger each other's pages all night long
Behind the reference desk.

Chapter 1: I Love You

The Arnold T-Bone Wailer Experience Night Club

Restitution was bestowed upon me
And here I thought my soul was lost
The whole of yesterday’s night alleys
Were but a fragment of soft yellows
And the yellow greens that plague the meadows.
And that of her majesty’s skin
And what of her majesty’s skin?
Does it belie her ghostly contract?
The ocean, blue, but only in remembrance.
The sky, purple, pink,
Yet only in memories,
Which are memories themselves.
No questions can go unanswered.
But all questions will go unanswered.
The machine on which it was built is locked.
And it will be locked.
For always.