Part I of tonight’s double feature. There’s something for everyone so show mom and dad.
Faithfully
by Rob Rice
Faithfully and
All over spacious America
Our criminals are ripping pedophiles
Apart in prisons
It’s steady work
For steady men wordless
About their broken backs
And sticking up for our
Or their
Maybe at any rate someone’s
Intact morality
Or stratified morality
Just the idea of the thing
They’re keeping it alive
Generative in those furnaces
Regularly interspersed among the windfarms
And rolling lulls of corn orange
Reactors that keep our American decency
In stock for if we need it
That real violence moves us
The motivation in
The argument
To make relative their own misdeeds
Or our own
At any rate
Someone’s
While state reps send aides out to score Sodium P.
On the blank streets they organize and redistrict
Slinking in the alleys reluctant Dane and Roma people step
Bringing something home for pop to pray over
Then admin Back pats all around
Ex-pats
Time
And the search for it in small things
Pallbearers wetwinking at secrets they think He’s in on
Context boys gesturing at the ceiling not called anything
Without intersectional ideas motivating technologies
What happens as everything catches up
Cancers and strange base psychologies coaxing waves and
Drives into tonic grand malware
Applying themselves
Calmly seeking the same ancient sate
Of maligning systems
Server farms come down with datapox
Towers felled by bad blood
Reach into the news and extract the wet present
Remotely the ‘castersadness and plainness of living
In homes that fear
The synthetic grooming and clustering of cropped
Dot buzz hijinks
Misery of puckered vision
That works through grimaces to wager questions like
What can trick us into regression and
As a comedian generously allows an audience
To be satisfied by misdirection
What will send us back to the small communities
Ice Iron
Bronze Man
Succeeded
Without a ballooning commotion of pride like
Red cream clouding up lucent blue coffee
Freakish research and restaurants
New wave and
Undulating assfat in squat capital D due thighs
Isolated and frozen
Cheaply individuated with a candid look of surprise
But lasting and walking and introducing
And hating like scumsunk beans in water brought watched to a boil
Salted Explain and coin satisfying universal terms with
Definitions only as applicable as they are ambulant
While ingredients through the alphabet and back
Cost prohibitive
Too soon to bloom
Divorcing the past in daily tranches
Waking up unsurprised and comforted
To encounter once again
The fetal position
And when you start to wake on your back
With your hands laced prettily on your chest
You don’t notice
Because solace is solace is solace
And maybe there’s some honor in being the first the defining
Progenitor burial in a formerly functionless plot
But it’s negligible
Dying men of the flat night
Debriefing already dead sons
Saturating them with secrets for the grave
Secrets are currency there
They can swap them at the hellwait card table
For some simple jerky to drape over their collar
And recreate the skinfeel
Or a rotten peach to finger fuck
And let sticky the bone dribble
To attract flies
That then they all gather around
Giddy to praise life
In its mechanically full forms
Hard exampled irrefutable life
Not just spectre and memory and its progressing haze
Coming in hissing like rain curtains blottingout over the counterfurious ocean
Each story becoming less believable as told
And even though the audience is motivated to endorse
They are starting to itch with worry
Precautious to fully engage with What even is it
And they wonder which of them is still sure it happened
And defer to him
Let blond the black sap
Disoriented passenger-conductor
Like a citizen-soldier
Mock lost after a nation building exercise
The wonder of edgeless dull blockage
A whole sleeping calamari core of brain
Calling on
And getting nothing but clammy potassium slick
White matter’s breathy sweat sent
Out at pressure Nothing that feels hardcast but molten
And washing
And of soap
It feels like an expanding tinny aphasia
Leaving us without the proper words
That area having been overcome
That area having been overthrown dirty and hallow pained
Tried too much and too little
To have an effect
But they don’t
So TV persists
We think
Pleasantly At least now they’re including makeouts
Whole wet ones
In commercials about tech dating
The real and the super real
They’re worked matches
So they makeout
In the commercials
And I guess the logic is
Also in real life
Until eventually in super real
Matches and marks
Similar and often overlapping friends of the cause
Duped into daddyhood and mommyhood
Some worse for it
Some fed by it
Will always have
That mutual record
A shame foundation to accuse the other on
Persistent in boiling back up
Years after the early apartments
The natural laughs and parks and uncannily seamless vacations
Dixie cones plugged fat baby hands
And striped ice cream was thrashing around the stroller’s workbench like mercury
Taunting barometric augury was
Missed When they drove to Phoenix and
That bizarre night they stopped in Texarkana
But now the house is bought and the long
Yelling dullness
The vertiginous extended eternity and super eternity
To wait love and endure eachother through
There will be nights of creampure accusation
Where that basis will underlie each taunt
And they will abuse each other’s
Real or otherwise love
For its being bought on an instant
Neurological default to gameplay like cards
Futures
For sad and individual men
While inexhaustibly still
Spoilt on admiration
Cataract skyscapes peacock
Espousing they’re fully blind
Begging at least that for their son’s sake
They be entombed in oil
And Jokers
Pervade decks
Pervert them in sinister and mocking laughter
That’s sticky and smells
Shading the grain
Outing the creases at the dog-eared edge
That superimpose character onto quitting muscle
And again argue for age
Movement and concert
Spinning is to cones
As bones pose as all matter of things
Half buried in red desert sand
Half in red desert sun
Bleached waxy yellow
The fat still grinning
And fed from the life it had
In Massachusetts
Innocent dead kids stand by
The rites of chemical passage
A duty
They feel
Whining a gift of imaginary context
To those responsible for them
That lets poison into their memory
Like smoke drawn across the moon
And into a mouth
And out in Arizona
They’re unaware of the other
Too focused on the laced X’s
The scoring of their sleeping ankles
The viscous slowly evaporating spit from a
Copperhead’s tongue having thatch-licked hexes
Gratefully crosscutting that well organized chickenmeat
Tender against the grain and
Committing it to muscle memory
Bodies outfitted with the means
To tentpole electrofinance
Self-sovereignty as routers and
Conduits subliminally participating in
Redirection And trafficking in commerce and signal
Counterfeiting data as status
Completing the transfer from society to market
Sensual bad news when that sweet Thai food smell
You’ve been tracking with your mouth watering
Turns out to be the default funeral home
In the midst of the cooling unit emergency that will finally shutter its doors for good
I am just not interested in your blood
Like I am mine
There is no great fascination
It just looks vaguely dangerous and flavor-poor
While mine is pomegranate and impossible
Exceptional in color and content
Flamboyant and evident and
Minerally opaque
Surface tension tents pools upright
Must be magnetically floating cell rafts saying north
Too much so to dry and grey
Fibrous and supporting scaffolding of an interstate bridge
Straddling an unnamed and municipally nuisance waterway
Silent and humiliated and passing with its head down
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Soon After Easter Here in New Jersey I ate a chocolate I found in a dead log One of many dead logs Weighing down the acreage That was appraised for me like a credential By my host Who revealed himself over dinner To be a republican It was inside a green plastic egg Still not found on Thursday Disappointing to the parent That had overestimated its own kid And that valued Diligence and industry (Afraid I imagined The kid Was still looking) And if it had known A disappointment to the kid too The yolk it was meant to have Was coconut flavored milk chocolate By Lindt Wrapped in reflective silver and blue Itself egglike I ate it after several minutes Of having it in my pocket Wondering what might hatch
PULLING GREASE we search shorn badlands for what’s there and find it’s not great work we spread the word of a very different gospel one that is twisted in the middle but frustratingly won’t fail to find itself in the end like a möbius it starts as a profession of dark love for dark things the animals and air there then into yet another purple sky thin impersonation of the night it brags about seeing just beyond the horizon there are the two of them advisers of a different way exceptional strategists and navigators-without-fail from each to the other like hysterical documentarians one lurks near the terminal where night casually waits like a Japanese teen for his bus to arrive as if day were Boston and he wants to get to New York and follows him on fearlessly he boards the animal tube no one else notices him sit among them and pull in their grease it’s obvious he’s worrying about his performance having both been glory and been unremarkable before he’s just some guy really with a job bigger than he thought he could do and now doing it he realizes anyone could if they’d just shut up about who they were being one of the guys in a city lost among the lost coins and slack herds mushing forward overcome with false purpose he manages to feel apart from them an individual like many others are naturally able and to know himself as just a man a ponderous onerous little idiot who types and erases curse words to exercise two powers
Haiku 44 Two people who walk Home into complete silence Strangely just blow up
