Jet-gray junkos sit
with striped sparrows, little moves:
buds in winter bush

Academy Award for Decline of America, 2017

unreal country trapped in reality show fever dream administrations,

a golden wall of stupid with no exits, escape lanes blocked,

even the glitz distractions come to fuckup.

cue the clowns, ghosts, frauds, miscreants and posers

all the dumb asses stormed the stage, they own this show about nothing

why bother reading books, “how do you turn them on?”

we can’t even do envelopes right,

can’t even read the names of winners from a card.






Burn It

Burn the pages, burn them all
torch your etched and crazy faces.

Watch the tricky blue flame ebb,
watch it dissipate before you get on.

Gifts and turn offs: inscriptions, hot tears:
sweet wood chopped, stacked in a pile.

Splintered ink curls, black characters hiss,
spitting little whiffs of self.

Monumental ash assembles, bald embarrassments,
dumb cravings tilted, listed, fell.

Trails of smoke feed midnight blues.
Walk away from the burning man.

Walk, look back more, pull away until
a lonely road intersects,

and you turn down the long road
forgetting what you came for.

The Impressive Idiot

The impressive idiot’s leg sleeps —
a bleached newspaper in his beefsteak hands,
its black iron stories like stripes, bars,
stone slab sad, death by thousand needles.
Enlarged shadows of jet planes cross him.
His dawdling boots float over the bench edge
like rusty buoys above a submerged city.