lazarus
Blue Crack Supplier
I haven't been here in quite a while, but talk of poetry in Bang & Clatter inspired me to come in here and share my most recent writing (from May of this year). I didn't set out to write about the state of the U.S. economy, but somehow it just bubbled up, hiding behind a lot of references to the 1930's depression era. The little guy vs. city hall, small towns vs. the government and Wall St., that kind of thing.
***
CIVIC, PRIED
The town drunk
from the wishing well
and spit a filling back willingly
a fecund second ‘til it hit the bottom
de-loused in the flophouse
manhandled for panhandling
by soup kitchin’ cousins
and hoarse thieves tirading a trade
apprentice the season to be pollyanna
wanna catheter to streamline the scheme this time
the mislaid plans of mason men
a foundation crumbles like broken bread pudding
unsure footing for a stood-on cornerstone ceremony
buckled knees of the vie eye peas
bottomed-out top hats and split-seam spats
can’t keep the ice cream parade afloat
with expired milk carton kids;
will those wanton batons higher
and beat the dire drums drier
In the parlor Trixie
was bristlin’ Dixie
she watched from the window
hurtin’ through the curtain
ill-to-follow fallen women,
sworn to skip the stream they swim in,
but tin ears telephone the others,
gossip ‘mongst the city mothers
now resigned to the line
‘twixt the sweet and the swine
she’s a slingshot send-off
Y-stick in back pocket
one-eyed and dog-tongued
a nose thumbed
at the stuffed sirs and puffed hers--
the last of their unkind
no quarter will they find;
the meter is up
and minded by the maid they have betrayed.
laz
***
CIVIC, PRIED
The town drunk
from the wishing well
and spit a filling back willingly
a fecund second ‘til it hit the bottom
de-loused in the flophouse
manhandled for panhandling
by soup kitchin’ cousins
and hoarse thieves tirading a trade
apprentice the season to be pollyanna
wanna catheter to streamline the scheme this time
the mislaid plans of mason men
a foundation crumbles like broken bread pudding
unsure footing for a stood-on cornerstone ceremony
buckled knees of the vie eye peas
bottomed-out top hats and split-seam spats
can’t keep the ice cream parade afloat
with expired milk carton kids;
will those wanton batons higher
and beat the dire drums drier
In the parlor Trixie
was bristlin’ Dixie
she watched from the window
hurtin’ through the curtain
ill-to-follow fallen women,
sworn to skip the stream they swim in,
but tin ears telephone the others,
gossip ‘mongst the city mothers
now resigned to the line
‘twixt the sweet and the swine
she’s a slingshot send-off
Y-stick in back pocket
one-eyed and dog-tongued
a nose thumbed
at the stuffed sirs and puffed hers--
the last of their unkind
no quarter will they find;
the meter is up
and minded by the maid they have betrayed.
laz
