June 27, 2008

Grip-force the vials and strip the locks
Smash the set & slash the beds
And when it looks like a wifes' ex-plot
We'll cover all the rugs with cheap perfume

Kenneth Patchen

"And When Freedom Is Achieved"
-- by Kenneth Patchen

You have used a word
Which means nothing.
You have given a word
The power to send men to death.
Men are not free who are sent to die.
Only those who send them are 'free.'
You should have freedom stuffed down your fat throats.

Language Barrier
-- by Klipschutz

The language of our elders is a barrier to some.

The River Words can dam up at the source.

Can freeze. Then melt in funny turns of phrase.

Sometimes only ooze and ahs get through.

A fortunate son can sing “Fortunate Son”

As a joke but screw up almost every line.

A tongue can overflow too.

Like a toilet at a mixer, at a hazing.

(This can last eight years; dude, that’s tons of potpourri.)

Or, it can flow in a clear stream into the sea of humanity.

O the language that I love is a big bad wolf to some.
John Fogerty did not die for our sins, but he spent twenty five years
in litigation.

Chess Match Ends in Fight
-- by David Hernandez

As one opponent calling out checkmate
an hour past midnight could crack a man

already broken and bring allegations
from his tongue, violence to his veins,

bring him to rise and hip-knock the table
so the legs screech, so the pieces quiver

and topple, the bishop a salt shaker
kissed by an elbow, bring him to blows,

to blows, to blows, to grasp the winner
and propel him through plate glass

as if a baptism in geometric water,
so the glass rains and dazzles the floor,

so he emerges from the window stunned,
lacerated, to bring blood and the lilac

breath of night, men with stars pinned
to their chests, handcuffs jiggling,

so one’s booked, the other’s stitched,
the coarse thread lacing up the lesions,

as and so and to bring this to this,
we will be there with our brooms.


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