20150116

Willie Smith


SPIDER IN A BED OF STARS
                                              For: Nubecula Major


                Faces choke the stew; arms the sausage; guns the motor. Stairs out on the vacant lot — removed from the building of a memory, bleeding in a ditch internally.
                Drive like a Lincoln through a tunnel a nail through the skull.
                Gonna lap your scull, baby. Nip that dwarf in the stern. Pick you outta my teeth. Tongue you underneath your cross. Doublecross tarantula!
                Dance away the knight in a radioactive beaver. Few syllables for any mercury panoply. Little life in a universe so long you may as well bid farewell to nerves not gnawed. I come to chew the lick out.
                Outside lick do you good. Do you good? Real bad good?
                This not just goodbye good. This the gold in the piss. The god in the pithing of the frog for the python’s stitches raveling back to the wound rewound on a reel.
                This real good bad. Tarantula stomp in a bed of stars.



THE JUGGLER


                I got balls and speed. I got everything a little boy needs.
                To the convenience I prance on down. Hang around like a curb stone prince. Wait for the sky to dry. The air to clear. The sign to glow. I put my knee on the night — one squire totally wired.
                I trot my tongue along my teeth. Part my lips like gold leaf. Fly inside the wind’s pants. Juggle words upwards, backwards, around words, swear words, sword words, words that soar and sore, sore, sore words.
                I jog and jiggle and jack you outta breath. I sprint my tongue along my teeth, I spur my lips with mercury.
                Oh keep your eye on the ball, and keep your heart up to speed, and let your mi-i-i-ind coast… So you follow my every word, I will not let you fall. I got balls and speed, I got everything a little girl needs.
                I wake you up, I keep you high, I send you home through the sky. I am a twisted momma bopper – Oedipus with scoliosis.
                I sat on the python. Kissed my cobra. Spat maggots at the grave. Split Rockefeller’s oyster. Joined like magnetic poles. In the air all night while I talk you crazy hang my balls.
                I wake you up, I keep you high, I send you home through the sky.
                I got balls and speed. I got everything a little boy and girl need.




Willie Smith's story collection NOTHING DOING is available on Amazon.
 
 
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