Woo
O life little life little sawdust fleck I thought we’d go on riding hip-to-hip
on the bench seat of Big Blue gassing up at Hoggly Woggly supping
junk food & coke summers so hot cops slept with radars
in their laps in the shadetree crook of Swamp Creek Rd the FM
dialed past gospel to Led Zeppelin Outcast incandescent
from love of country glass flea-market bowl packed crypto blown
seeds out the crank window broke barns & that appaloosa
up to flanks in poppies pulling down side roads to lick-a me suck-a you—
Not this Boko Harem Hamas Komalah Jihad—Vanguard of Conquest
crouched in orobanche whispering mother me tamarind & apricot
crushed in our tire tracks, deluge so the wipers stuck
trying to get the bullets off & refugees teaching us the notes of bazooki
from the flatbed drones we don’t know our asses from our
camel shit hookah we gerryrigged the muffler with by accident
& winter’s brown body is the street sign in this desert where
little life, you suggest we just keep all eyes on the road from now on?
Red Rover
Before the human chain gave
the goal was to get held hard.
