melted light

 

mahala

 

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/34586956/lucinda-mahala-miller

an unmansionably amok stasis

 a day run amok in untethered emotional bandages

would be better than this chaotic blackho

facing my own self scorn with glasses glued together

with history excretions

knowing i am the wizened warbling weirdo

or at least i like that string of wordos

and just knead, catlike, the expensive velvet carbuncle

you use as a graduation hat to right now.

i hop on top, away we go

in a solidarity to outclass classification of what

amok means, all holed in for the winter unmansionably 

wrongnow

 

molly with her privilege binky

down the throat that speaks, using paper bags

thru hell that doesn't bring their own

more PC or politically acumenic siccoin yeah 

left whatshisname in the car

just to get a few man

-goes, not quite ripe the cop viewed her

faux pas with corporate aplumb

a dossier embodies

When strangers do the same at Food Front

they tip a dollar and wink

knowing the way the world twerks

SE portland

NW shit poem

Xmas with my Kids toys

 

goodblood. godblot. blotgood, bloodgod

 

"The company founded by a man named Henry Ford," Trump said. 

"Good blood lines, good blood lines, 

if you believe in that stuff, you've got good blood."

https://www.businessinsider.com/trump-praises-henry-fords-good-bloodlines-at-michigan-ppe-event-2020-5

___________

drinking rainwater

 drinking rainwater

extemporaneous life; 

partly cloudy boot.

beaver dams filling up

 

bloggod

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dorothy Champlin Would've

Grandma Dorothy would spank your bratty asses you bratty assed snots 

greed fed ticks

over privileged worms 

bottom feeding whitecollar grifters 

grandma dorothy would frown and pray you had a case of rashes to parade you in sunday school 

for your own good. do yo need to talk? tell Grandma on the fracking doll where you're fracking your cousin 

grandma Dorothy would blanch at your bald fraud grown into full fascist infancy under her luminous maiden name Champlin

 

birds to my violin flit

 

birds to my violin flit, over attentive to my lull

as i dull reality toll

by overemphasizing music onto a neighborhood of contradictions

programmed on the way by

platitudinous triggers and the gnaw of unwelcome texts

threatening a status quo that already stunk

enough to harken spiders to weave tapestry traps

which warm me

like it or not

12-14-20

se portland

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

general Grant came to visit my fiddle for fleur de lis