Jim Leftwich & Steve Dalachinsky

we are the past, we are the humming shoe

bent like the seven of nails
     phone home jones who
 was last seen washing
         in the riven of sticks
cross bars a dick shunned
    still gnashing teeth
over mis/spent work permits
    we are the past we are the chat/
        rooms where are
        the humming shoe slicks
        the barfing crossroads wreath
where mashed potato swill
   will swallow us holes no
       mites in the purse only
           the forked scent of the serpent
    hovering and pissing
      in the rare hats
        of the fair & balanced
          like overspent pretzels
            no logic no pistol
  only bodies at a university protest
     where all had been merged into
    disgrace dear gods
              of the submerged haddock
          & bean please save us
     from the race to the middle
in the universal test-tube protein
      professist of tempests
         in postdisembodied 
               teapots "the logic
     of the poem is mainly the zeal
of the pistil pretext & ovenspout
   reasoning conducted or assessed 
according to strict principles of validity
      for example experience 
  is a better guide to this 
          than deductive logic"



the radio plays bones & grids

the radio plays 
  someone to watch over me
      the rain is non-stop
        there'll never be another sun-
set again but the radius
   of prayer only covers
      a small patch of bones
          i face to face when i worship
 warships / the carnival is never-
     ending / the cars stream by in endless
       processions / gas blowds my belly
       the ship of winds is on pace
       to fever in a veil while 
       the cutlass of dream is bending
       sessions on the road to partched
         livers & hairy procedures
           blood from rectum ain't no blood
              from a stone
luddites are desert creatures
     floodlights are desert creatures
     light-sabers are desert creatures
saber-toothed tigers are desert creatures
          tiger lilies are desert creatures
     lilies of the valley are desert creatures
valley girls are desert creatures
          grids & grills are desert creatures
grilled cheese sandwiches are desert creatures
     sandwich boards are desert creatures
boards of directors are desert creatures
      all else are creatures of habit or nuns.



stepping together

starting with none of the above and
working out towards the bottom we
found ourselves on a small island
surrounded by sleeping waller-ators
we were rolling up our sleeveless &
stepping lightly with no time to wait
a bit crazy we took the glass cage
& together stepped into oblivion
on and on and all at all we called it
a night page by page phasing last
the elements blasting a lifetime of
choices into the harpist's retrieval
there were lifeboats on our oceans
and timelines on our open hands



beard at various stages

with time on our hands
we charted the lifestyles of the great
black bear now showing in your local saloon
where we are riding on our handlebars
    ----look ma, no limes----
life is a steak & style is a shopping cart
moon by moon our vocal snow
is worth two nouns in the ear
    3 chocolate metaphors 
a simile of choice tastelessness
    & a table of contents
         filled with emptiness
---- hey ma, i'm hungry
& all we have to eat is this poem
& whitman's beard at various
stages of life flow / no fear / to be free
         at Pfaff's on a friday night



protect the sun

hide the accidents in the
  constant plankton with
   their jagged muttering
 shrugged often enough
    miles of eroded beaches
       spanking new jet-skis
 sale/boats of souls solo-ing in 
   & out with the tide
each mode of smiling
      skits & nets a few sparking
   wings of moles safe in their
         moats wide as the pith 
of a snout & protected areas for
    creatures who don't know they
         are protected / snipes / voles
  piping plovers &...realistically
tectonic doubt (they know
       they don't know) featuring
holes & snippets & professists
       & poison ivy & poison sumac &
poison oak & poison pen letters
  all poised to protect the summer 
         sun which is very noisy
with its fetters bent to seed & pose
all posers tattooed & glitt'rin with filth
          all shuckin jivin & divin ina the bucket of
                all memory based scroungers 
       takin da fifth with a shoe hose
like Huck Finn's divining rod
           loungin in the basement
                  on da 13th floor
     sleepin in the pool room with the padlocked
         door / waking in the morning with a $2 spore. 

july 2019

 
 
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