https://www.portland.gov/services
"rain washes the twenty gallons of dish slop
down the gutters along the federal building,
crows have better mush to nibble
in the park where riot ribs
hang out under the molting trees
in a francis bacon meets goya meets basquiat world
forking spuds like gogh in a van quick
here come the pig with eight hanging off the side
going in flashing circles, chasing their tails
we smoke copious pot
billowing around the beers in the park across the jail
court injustice theater, the tricked out blm ride
with a p.a. system taunting the night
kill me now, cowards
***
yesterday, got out of the soggy tent around one
the blm booth had collapsed from ten hours of water and wind
i set things right, swamped out the trash
and heard the elk had been deherded from main street
by proudboys in pickups, shoulda seen it coming.
made bleach water and cleaned the public toilet
which ranks among the worst rank homeless shit magnet
around, bleached the sidewalks, put food out on the table
and greeted passersby, helped put up the new
canopy knowing how they assemble and attached
two by fours to the legs for weight,
got offered a beer, then two by a pretty girl
from the pendleton blanket shop
greeted more people, then came nate and we
shot hoops for three hours by the war memorial
with howitzers from fort sumpter 1861
more spraypaint on it ever day
there's drumsticks on the grill, people are happy
for free hot food, all sorts pass by mostly simpatico
a drunk russian almost causes trouble
but his buddies pull him down the street
and the loons show up, wiggling under the cedar tree,
doing incantations, waving sticks and kooking out
the protest at the jail release a few blocks away
spits out random individuals or groups amidst
cheers jeers and beered unclear
one Native man shares long candles
i attack to a gallon can with no label, he comes back
for lighter fluid he pours into a water bottle
after cops take away his candles
the kooks come in droves and then amber in black
chatty and wants to share the only beer
the last pair of kooks almost have a tussle
around four am, i'm soon home walking thirty feet to the tent
a mini riot still reverberating a few blocks away
fuck it five am
i depart to southeast and my storage and carla won't serve
me coffee so to my storage full of money
and i drink coffee
all i want
fuck you
and back to camp with this and that in tow i hear the
dickboys came thru again and messed with my *new friends*
while i was away and i do again the swamp out
hallelujah"
10-11-20 blm ribs
jp gone, gone for hours, returns full of empty excuses
and lotsa lip and a short fuse sticking out of the petri dish
of unhinged anarchy with a new biz license
no propane for 48 hours plus and no way to cook or kill microbes
no charcoal and a cooler full of half warming meat
human shit dog shit loose trash rain slop runny nose festering wound
haven, the two hours of scrubbing pots
with a greasy sponge buy me a few moments of half gratitude
until the Park nerd boy scouts show up at 10pm TO HASSLE
the houseless and look the other way
covering for the con men taking donations online
and unable to perform basic tasks or figure out how to
organize the operation with volunteers, none of whom know other
and are largely white boys like me
as the main man
plays on his skateboard, or scooter, or megaphone, or takes a girl
off for several hours as the ragged downtown deranged and
disenfranchised settle for a piece of bread and an apple
while cases of canned soup, uncooked pasta, fresh produce
from the Oregon farms----spoils or is sneezed on by the
crazy lawless cars that rush past only a few feet away.
the con men have no literature or propaganda for BLM
nothing but nicer clothes than the sidewalk crew
that lurk across the terrain
without shadows
and without anything to wipe their asses with other than
cedar tree splinters and wax cups from the gutter:
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