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this fiction of mine laboured tightly in the skull of memories and mysteries worked to the wheel by furies who deal the willing thread in...

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

louie at bat

                   louie at bat

awaken as dawn was breaking out of a dream
where a voice kept calling out his name saying
loud and mean -enough of this nonsense take
the sardines...leave- i squinted briskly and saw
berry and lily curled asleep in a burlap
heap while i ridded myself of that faded red
cloth i found yesterday on the green of the park
i had it wrapped loose and snazzy 'round
my neck for no other reason than covering
every bit of myself and hide away all flesh...
now having done so with a strata of fresh
assorted emotions sweat and coated fearless
i did a phenomenal maneuver just to get
on my feet and out of freeman alley unto
rivington and across that little park toward
forsyth street where louie would be invisible
only to come out of the woodwork at the sight
of one prospective customer or sucker...
was i one such sucker...after all louie had lured
me from upstate with the promise of primo stuff
easy tricks and the days had gone in a daze
of dilaudas tuinals and new wave music making
the scene streets burning midsummer eves
until louie got hot on a whim he cut us loose
and went wild on a swing hitting for the cycle

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