Tuesday, August 21, 2018

2 imitations


by chuck leary



arctic light blues




paul bunyan would have loved this silver eternity …
the rubbing of the wings of bodhisattva flies
( flies are the supreme bodhisattvas)
in the purple twilight of pocahontas and cabeza de vaca

thumbing rides
on brooklyn bridges of li po enlightenment
over rainbows of rheingold beer bottles

as the spiders of nothingness
crawl through the beard of john greenleaf whittier
passed out on the sidewalk of heaven


and the bing bong
bix beiderbecke
ping pong canaries
of gertrude stein

answer the burger king prayers of tao ch’ien

in the thirteenth enlightenment

or maybe the 14th arrondissement

where edith piaf
devours a smiling croissant
under the disapproving gaze

of madame butterfly
who missed the last train to istanbul

or heaven
(call back later)





a real poem



the insolent embolisms of the baroque
are patiently encapsulated
in the querulous cornices
of a watercolored zeitgeist

and the abandoned ashes of
a forgotten auto-da-fe...

boo! boo !
fuck that weak shit!
let's have some real poetry!

attenuated bilaterally in the dolorous
fortuitousness of the moment...

dolorous is right, asshole!

get him out of there!

boo! booooooo!!

all right, how about this


it's three in the morning
and i've finished my pint of wine

and i'm taking a shit behind safeway

and it's hard, it's hard
but i'm almost there

and suddenly
a car drives down the street

in front of the parking lot
and stops

a cop car

a cop gets out

i shuffle back into the shadows
with a stab in my guts

ohhhhhhh!
it moved back in a little

and the cop strides across the parking lot
it's a lady cop

with something in her hand
and i try to move sidewise

like a crab
with my pants around my ankles

and the hard turd stuck halfway out my ass
and she hits me full in the face

with her flashlight
and she says

"this is it, big boy -
the end of the line"



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