From around “Siva in Rags”

Left Behind Hiways
2008/05/11

Riding your spine elevator
on heroin legs
fat bugs agents of delirium
crumble
through high rise busstops
of your brainwatch
filled w/ fire engine sirens
pigmobiles scents
of terror
echoes of Carla’s mini skirt
Edens in plastik

creatures nameless
thoughtless endless
drained drops of last year’s raindrum
evident manifestations
of the Shadow Boys’
toilet conspiracy
and the writer’s mute
erotic acceptation
of their truly annoying
presence
concentrate
at my boot tip
the paralyzed fur cock
crazy old crook

guillotine hatchbirds
kill again
rearview mirror Clinton cats
coyotes
writing in left behind
hiways only

Lemons
2008/05/13

Most beautiful god’s creatures
whichever god you think of
are lemons
so washed-out
exhausting

they’re like travelin’ women
in a static glance
w/ their yellow tight peels dirty
acid insides
lavatorial lips
screaming: Porter!
oh where are all travelin’ women
beerlovin kind cunts of friendship
slick and disastrous with their Irish hair
curling
bays of the outer green depth
shit

waving their flags on cheek galleon’s masts
holding the steer
like a stainless steel razor
taking you west
from the tights rooms of opium
swinging in syncopes
mad surgeon’s hypes
and all clued-up
immortal

squeeze them

most beautiful god’s creatures
whichever god you think of
must be properly used
before the dawn breaks
their gringo

this way, the girly show!
Living in the memory
of a broken man

Cheapness Here
2008/05/11

Cheap newspapers bring forth
the essence of life
this whole lustrous pulp
of deliverance
trapped in finger staining rainprint
wired fence delicacy
where grandmas and grandsons
and daughters and fathers
read all about the dandy
scandals
in overshort
gothic romances

in their multicolor framed
bahamous pictures
dumb celebrity hatchbacks
& verse prostitution
stoned forests of chemical salvation
captured w/ cat’s eye precision
d’you wonder where you fit
sometime
in these chaotic monstrosity’s
surprises?

made myself a suit
out of newspaper
idiocy
and took a walk downstreet
upstreet
middleways
head up in the far rings of Saturn
feet down in the shock Dante’s value
my inbetweens
stuck between the wigmen
and sadmen of localities paintful

while I am ever rotating
crazier and crazier
as the days turn into seasons:

let them people stare dumb as they always do
while my hunchback feet
come like hullabaloo

Copyright © 2008 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.