i am a head on a stick

Wikipedia Poem, No. 868

headonastick-sm

with honesty and love
he carried 
me over the earth
to 
       burke reason, honesty and didn't once put my 
head on a stick
or make me 
    do terrible things 
to the truth

now i am a head on 
      a stick
made to 
do terrible things 
and love
       trauma 

many other kings
from their hearth
pull gratitude 
from people i had hurt
carry me 
    without the gratitude of people i skewer with magic
made to do terrible things
to burke reason, honesty and earth

i am a 
head 
i am a head 
    on a stick again
and didn't never once love
the earth
who burkes reason, honesty and 
wompsters alike 
have carried me through gratitude 
to people i had once loved
and burked myself  
with reason, honesty and mirth

i am a head 
on a stick
made to do terrible things to truth
     
a head once loved
a head 
on a stick
made to do terrible things and never once loved
tubercular wompsters 
have carried me over the earth
      to the granite people stuck 
on a stick
that
once loved
 the truth as a trunk
      
i am a g and a wompster 
carried beside the earth
to 
burke reason, honesty and fellow 
wompsters 
don't concern yourself
with my trauma 

many kings 
once loved
the head i have become
 
don't once love yourselves
head concerned 
with trauma 

many kings
many truths

i am a head once loved
on a stick
made to do terrible things
to heaven
          to the 
earth
to burke 
reason, honesty and wompsters 
     
i have carried myself over the earth
to 
burke reason, honesty 
and wompsters 

i am a head 
of
     many kings don't concern themselves with
love
do terrible things
       to burke reason, honesty and truth

i am a head once loved
for its amplitude of attitude i had on a 
stick
and chompers 
chomping all over the earth
to burke reason's honesty and don't come once loved 

and many kings  
and many traumas 
and many earths 

burke reason
honesty and don't 
and don't and don't

‘Noir, NJ’ by Paul Muldoon

muldoon

When I wake up in a strange bed
Beside a girl called Pam
I try to play the whole thing down
And give my name as Sam
It’s clear I’m way out of my depth
It’s clear that she’s dropped a dime
It’s clear that even I suspect
I’m guilty of some crime
I know those goons by the streetlamp
Are champing at the bit
I last saw them on board the train
Before we took a hit
And jumped the observation car
Only to lose our way
In a nightmarish railroad yard
Somewhere near Noir, NJ

When I squint through the slatted blinds
Pam orders juice and eggs
She’ll let a man do the legwork
While she works on her legs
It’s clear her husband was a wimp
It’s clear he had no spine
It’s clear she lit that cigarette
To give the goons a sign
I know that it’s a rule of thumb
A gumshoe’s fingered me
When ladies who’re high maintenance
Meet lighting that’s low key
They’re just so many femme fatales
Who have been led astray
And now lure plainclothesmen et al
Back there to Noir, NJ

When a sergeant with a scattergun
Meets a shamus
Halfway up the stairs
Somewhere between Paterson
And Paramus
They redefine the parameters
And bid us welcome, hey, hey, hey,
Welcome to Noir, NJ

When I flash forward through the murk
Of who did what to whom
I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve
To die here in this room
It’s clear I’ve been double-crossed
It’s clear that I’ve been framed
It’s clear that Pam’s husband was half deaf
From how they shout his name
I know I’ll be reduced to pulp
She’ll gulp with her orange juice
If I don’t reassert myself
She’ll kick in my caboose
It’s not too late to be hard-boiled
Like the eggs on Pam’s tray
Through even her pistol would recoil
At what happened in Noir, NJ

spacer1

Source: Muldoon, Paul. Joyce Carol Oates, Editor. New Jersey Noir. Consortium Book Sales & Dist, 2011. Print. pp. 217-218.

Mere Gravity

Wikipedia Poem, No. 834

charmscool3-sm

us against the word:
their inevitable cancer candy coats crap out sum syllables
you can say it famous like as all writing's rich sequence the author assumes,
and it may cure how many woman at this point is manipulation,
no one can say it better—you and the mfa applications. please
the stream is bone deep and cold and i find if i despise statistics
           the possible opens its purse strings
on this political order and so many woman in this malignant poem switch off friends.
o, it may cure how many smashed heineken bottles. feet ache in the water.
please share our words, though they are short of many smashed pleasures.

‘she said in strand’ (Determiners)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 820

sym

for Deantoni Parks

The forest is nothing but a single strand of spider’s silk suspended in wet air.

the woman on the silk bus spiders
forest asked if i was suspended jewish of
is i said what she said in strand
nothing are you jewish i said single
but my father was wet jewish but
a she said good i said air nothing
single nothing she wet said is
strand there are a lot in of good forest
of jewish people the suspended
spiders i read the silk bible every day
silk i said nothing she spiders said forest
suspended were goofing to win you know is
in im christian she strand said nothing
wet jews and christians single but
air are a lot alike weave a
wet got to protect one but another single
in she said weve got nothing to win strand
suspended this war is she said of
silk and got off the forest bus spiders

Bayway Refinery

Wikipedia Poem, No. 815

w815-sm-c

The blood red light slick on my sky binds skin to skull. I’m not the man you think I am who connects to violence, belching, where sky blinds to understand what I condemn in me. What I connect to skin, to violence, I loved first on the internet. I can’t have known New Jersey before I owned this wretched skull. I’m not the one who connects to violets. Where? There: Where mandible connects to skull. I’m not one for drama. I have no loudness, no spark. I have no loudness for drama. I have no profit for dreams. I am no lout, no prophet. I have sugar sparks for teeth. I split the atom.