collection of a columnist

I vindicate frequently, using
a chosen set of language
elements
    - adverbs, adjectives, descriptive valuables –

chosen unwarmly and incompletely from a dictionary on a 1989
sleety winter night.

The consequence of this incompletion
is an almighty shortcoming akin to
the balding of a star …

I was picking out my words, and nearly finished that night, when there was a knock on my door. Standing and waiting at my door was a man in an unfamiliar black trench coat; he quietly under his breath told me, “there’s a whole lot of crap that I read last night.” He sneakily looked from left then sneakily looked to right, “I was reading through a couple of magazines, one of them was called blank, and they were occupied by stuff equaled to crap – why oh why was it written.”

then he shot me through my skull
by means of a pistol that he had had hidden in his

unfamiliar black trench coat, leaving me stuck
ever since

with an incomplete collection of 1989 adverbs, adjectives, and
descriptive valuables.

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soap is not a contribution

contributions to the world come in a
variety
    of variations
    … such as

the stout variation

which is a contribution comprised of heftily
weighted
    … compositions

each composition is well known for
compatibility with volt intensive arc-age,
    not to be confused with the capacity to
    inhibit much ideology and pressure
      … that is an unrelated contribution variation

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mrs. zimmerman’s saffron

me and my brother donny used to run in the summertime;

it was good, the smell of air and little old mrs. zimmerman’s potted saffron on her porch.

donny would knock on her door and talk a hundred miles an hour; he would tell her

about catching crayfish down in the creeks and sexual couples behind the skating rink.

old lady mrs. zimmerman liked his stories I believe but that one;

I guess I was too young

to know for sure, but I have a feeling that

she had lost the man in her life;

she never said as much to donny but she talked herself about

the sock hops and the elvis and being so special that she got to go behind the

soda fountain where the soda jerk poured smiles and syrups.

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let the countries fight

“du fruit in la treat?
ahh cafe du monde mademoiselle”

a bunch of french people, sitting at their table,
looked over with berets in their eyes
unwilling to stand for the Texan’s mockery of
their language, their culture, philosophy and other junk
that makes a people a people

the Texan killed the french people and took over
the south western portion of the country that
had, until just now, belonged only to whoever lived there

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a tribute to Vasquez Cubador

A HOW HOW HOW HOW

“‘A how how how how’, those were
the lyrics of the great Romanian leftist,
Vasquez Cubador, a late addition to the
pre-psychedelic classicism movement known as romantic
jazz. ‘The wings

of that era haven’t been clipped’, I think was
what Vasquez wanted to tell us all, that the
foundation,
    the struggle, for eye-derated fairness,
    for opportunity, were brilliantly alive
in the 1/16 rhythms of his homeland Romania

And so it is, that here on this rural carolina
farm, on a spring-fresh day in June, 20 boys
are hung by their nasals to celebrate
the great life of a Romanian leftist

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cockfight ey-o

the four jeeps worked hard to get up the rocky
hillside: fractured granites, rickety grasses,
crumbles of tumbling stone and dirt debris ( plural )

and one jeep, call it jeep-A, did a powerful job !! and did not
succeed and rather lost its tracking and rolled downwards,
backwards from the hill to a low end gully shattered in brown durst

but at the hill’s top two jeeps were in success !! but did not the
hill have vertical ascents ?? if this story be known as a truth
then it shalln’t be known as one that is believable; this story is known as a truth

and as it is with all the proverbs that concern the defines atop hills
    there is not a place for a second player, or
    be it jeeps or rulers not a second one the same

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