We Are Not A Muse

 Muse on this, motherfucker.

We, down in the poetic trenches with our wet feet,

sniping critic-rats,

and The Angry Jealous with their ridiculous trebuchets lobbing 

plague corpses of crappy fauxku at our ducked heads

don't want to hear about it. 

Incoming!

intriguing

interesting

smiles.

__________

a quadrille for Dverse. 

Night Support

You will argue that it's none of my concern

who you embrace,

what fruit your mouth accepts and expresses

as the pulp and sweetness of your desire.

Doesn't sick soil poison every leaf?

Doesn't richness bless every bloom?

I am the Quantifier and Keeper of Carnal Particulars.

The muscle of his shoulder beneath your cheek

 two Novembers ago?

Bin 47, lot 5.

The dusky sound of her woodsmoke voice

on a bridge above the river on a night last July?

Shelf 21B, Warehouse 2, Compound A.

You just wait.

Let that grating emptiness come over you when you're alone

remembering his paint-stained fingers

or the caramel curl of her hair.

You'll need to retrieve it then,

more than blooms need stems,

sharp as a outcasts need warm mercy.

There I'll be,

rolling my cart to space 4G7 in the auxiliary bay,

requisitioning the very thing you need,

sending it out,

replacing it,

maintaining inventory and your equilibrium.

I'm good at what I do

because I understand need and weakness and lack.

Envelope G, in file B7GK4

should contain your wicked smile,

the angle of your teeth, your lips,

your tongue,

and the 27 catalogued effects they had on my dissolving bones.

Inventory shows them on-hand,

but though I search your name, 

your skin,

your scent,

I can't find any particle of you;

just a ringing emptiness

and this paltry job to fill it.

______ 

for "job title" at Toads.

When I was in the USAF, I worked night support in a warehouse, finding aircraft parts for delivery to the flight line. I drew on that, for this.

The Advice Communist

The "Life" section of the Detroit Daily Worker begins 
running a column called "The Advice Communist" alongside
state-sanctioned recipes for cornbread pie and
tips for decorating your collective factory.

Dear Advice Communist, writes Cheryl from Oak Park,
My mother wants a big church wedding, but my fiance
doesn't. They fight continually about it and I am in the 

middle.

Please help.

The Advice Communist reads the letter carefully, adjusts his

pince-nez, then composes his response:

There is no God, therefore your mother is a czarist symp-

athizer. 

Inform the authorities about her. Then after she

disappears, get married by a noble worker in the bed

of his state-manufactured farm truck.

Nancy from Southfield writes, My relatives from Frankenmuth

are visiting for Thanksgiving, and I am worried because

they don't control their bratty kids. What can I do?

Dear Nancy: Drive back the fascist swine with a withering hail

of machine-gun fire, followed by  mighty waves

of infantry. Pound them with artillery until nightfall,

then let the Michigan winter do the rest. If the cowards abandon

any of their indoctrinated swine-children, put them on

a train to the gulag. Happy Holidays!

The Detroit Daily Worker also runs the "Peanuts" comic

strip, featuring noble proletariat Lucy and 

capitalist puppet Charlie Brown. 

______

For De Jackson's "Let's Get Jambin' " at Dverse Place of Counterproductive Intoxication, and, of course, for the glory of the worker!

"The Advice Communist" first appeared as part of a May 7, 2011 post at my satire blog Objets D'art. 

My New Book !

Hi readers! I'm really excited to let you know that my new book, "The Cherub of Pierzanie Prison & other poems" is now available on Amazon! Just click HERE.

The poems have previously appeared here at my blog, as well as in some of Catblossom's favorite publications such as Large Appliance Newsletter, Dangerously Enlarged Ego, and Fumes. Okay, so I made those up, but I didn't make up the book! Buy it! Skittles needs puppy food.

I leave you with Catblossom's review:

Not since Frances Gibhardt's "Musings On Dental Floss" has there been such a marriage of the superfluous and the banal. Nonetheless, there are a couple of hidden gems here. "Hooked Up To Machines" has a certain utilitarian homogeneity of structure that engineers will find appealing, and the section "Vomit Haiku" is actually quite stellar, and adheres to 12th century Chinese tradition. However, the attached bag of rice is just tacky.

Pay no attention to Catblossom. I hope you'll enjoy my new book. It is 62 pages of Fireblossom poetry.  

Dybbuk

Oh loosen up--
go ahead, go crazy,
open the mail on a Saturday.

Angel,
I can see that you're gonna need my help.
Pop this--
you'll relax in a jiff.

Mama said,
"A girl's reputation is all she has got!"
I've got a whopper,
but don't believe everything they say.

F'rinstance,
what would happen
if you didn't buy that PR about the Red Sea
and how it turned into the fucking Dixie Highway
just cos Moses needed a fire exit?

Ooooh, you know what would happen!
The Dybbuk will get ya!
Well here I am. You peed your panties yet?

I've been misrepresented, yanno.
Mind if I sit closer?
See? I'm not some stenchy horror from a nightmare.
I've got French nails
and fishnets.
Nothing but class here, honey.

Lemme in, lemme in, lemme in!
What've you got to lose?
What're you gonna do--
keep the inventory at the family business
until you kill your mother in law or she kills you?

Almost asleep?
Let me rock ya.
Just let go and I'll slip into your skin.
We'll be together and then the fun begins.

Did you hear the one about
the Hasidic rabbi and the massage therapist?
Baby?
Aw, she's asleep.
Time for me to make my entrance
and for the crickets to sing:
Dybbuk
Dybbuk
Dybbuk.
______

for Izy's Out Of Standard challenge at Real Toads

 

wolves

The wolves who ate the sun
had all night to find my soft white sleeping-place,
my foolish face,
and then to circle me like a wild garland.

With the moon in their eyes,
and the stars caught between the pads of their paws,
they ran and left the sky behind them
trailing blue and silver
down into my skin as I slept.

Come to me, as you always do,
in your time, and as you can;
but understand
that all night, now, I am awake and watchful,
a different and darker girl than the one you could lull and tease,
keep and command.
_________

IT'S HERE ! OUR NEW BOOK !

Hello, readers! What do you suppose three cultured, educated, lovely ladies might get up to of an afternoon?

Three beautiful, sunny lasses, with a will to work a wonder, what might they do???

Well, if they are Mama Zen, queen of the short form and a natural born storyteller; Hedgewitch, noted form maven and mistress of the mythological; and Fireblossom....um....celebrated doorstopper, they might combine to write a book. And we did!

Our book is called Gemini/Scorpio/Capricorn, and it contains three sections, one with my poems, one with Kelli's, and one with Joy's, plus a little surprise featuring each of us, at the end of the book.

I speak for all of us, I'm sure, in thanking Marian at ALL CAPS PUBLISHING for helping us make this book a reality!

Even Catblossom can't contain herself: "It will do, if there's nothing on cable. Besides, Simpson is good looking."

I have wanted to do this since forever; putting this book together with such talented friends only makes it even nicer.

Now go buy it. We need the money!
________

"carpe diem" sign created by Dani, my Sista Poet!

___________

Whoa, hold the phone! My collection of short stories, Night Blooms, is also available! 

Buy it, too! I still need the money!