James A. Emanuel

JAZZ

from the

GOODHEALTH KING

Gone t’ the beach        gotta

Get outta the city

All the other here are contagious of the city

Fever dreamin             Lock the

keys in hot car            can’t    eva lose

Clothes comin off       cruise with ya hands in ya food

Pain of DUES             first of th’ month BLUES

           

            Come in kids an listen up

            That lifeguard  isa piece of shit

            yall swim out as far as yall needa swim

Somethin goin on wit the sand— sticks t’ our hands

Grain gums in d’zigned harmonization

Palm-scriptions recite rhythmic strans of bead         

Slam the door              Vacation down zipper highway

Return                         Complete metamorphosis

Through n to               the DAYSLEEPER opposite

Donchu got the sand   hitchhikes onto carseats

up legs             on yr sofa

what yr dog licked up                         noodley shit stinking

in yr garden. . . one day

                     . . . A Pretty Flower

"as the form appears the spirit wanes"

                                                              The title of the poem is underlined.

Stepping up to bed, the blankets sip me into                                            Shower: the pores on my back

its furry throat                                                                                              subsume moist-air

Arising next day the cauldron                                                                     Plaque stir plays game

spills over                                                                                                       of alluvial depth charge

                                                           

                                                A ghost of our generation commingled with the rest.

Arising dingy green a grin                                                                             Toothbrush purl swept

on your face                                                                                                     into orbit midnight

 

Stepping in to sleep, that coquette smiles                                                    Bathtub: the mind on my neck

a snake’s                                                                                                          dissembles landfall

           

FREE THINGS CLICK HERE TODAY!!!

N    O     T      E          T   O           S    E    L   F

Weapons at your disposal:

            --Careless state of mind

            --Walking class style

            --Beard Fear

            --Personal Flexibility

            --Blue eyed stare

. . . I love my eyes not for how they look but for how they see.

            Testify to bursts of spontaneo-reality. Puts it down to memory, in neural                                       
                   connections or on parchment. But the page put out from the inner,                                                    
                         pleasurable sights, painful ones. Sterilized.

      I love my I’s not for how they look but for how they seem.

            Truth is, I am not the guy writing any of these words. He and I talk. Check in                                              
                   with each other from time to time, 
                         but I prefers to work by my self.

My <Tarantula, by Bob Dylan> Moment:

            Death. What about dark&alone nothingness?

                        Life is already nothingness.

                                    --Itself probably misunderstood as nothingness by those moved on                                                  
                                       to Death. Somethingness ain’t nothin but

                        Maybe. Maybe not so bad.

                                    --Death? feels like nothing.

                                    --Life? feels like nothing plus a little occasional something.

                                    

Family values

Family values

it was wrapped in shawarma

stinks up Maggie’s wiffie’s spaghetti temple

so Ted won’t get all up in her business.

Chanukah Celebration

Tie dye roll in the hay

Mom + Dad holding hands.

Exciting children tear

open presents

like heart surgery.

A marriage’s memory is measured

by the weight imbedded

into left side of the bed.

“I can’t wait for your death

any longer human

Currently the Lethe takes you

in your pleasures

and successes

hopes dreams

and personalities.

Your were so ripe

Now cold blue

why do you smile

Are you

as ready as I am

to see you off?”

 

The boat trudges on.

The river curls

its lickity fingers at the woman fleshes

turning excited

and impatient.

The boat begins to slosh

violently the bow

dipping harder now.

“Pleeeeeeeeease beeeeee wiiiiiiiiith meeeeeeeeee . . .

your life

is a floooooooooowerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . .

I’ve been awakened

by your scent

It reminds me

of an ocean

I once knew

I release you

from your dark coffin blues!”

Her eyes open

once

close

open twice a little more

This time she rises

the river still

Her eyes spark

with hunger

and her body jumps

up without gravity

Flying her blue bird form

reflecting off the Lethe

The tide withdraws

for another to pass.

Today’s Writing Prompt

h0w yur marriag3 unravel5 

writing poems

the university wastes its time on me (charlIeepsteIn) 

fuck the things i carry on my checklist conscience

that could be a Tuesday essay about Monday masturbatory girlfriend crisis about a 
coulda-been job we erect Sunday’s morning-mullers they just take our coffee bean

bag automated cashier substitutes the human suspended by her busty brassiere could be

the sole source for the coffee sandwich w/ soy conformity my evil plan

watta funk the unhip hop gods gott me in

shoelace floppin like dreads ungiving a shit about

leglaces gooffin like dead spun stilt in front of stilt across

soft silt the color of red sun when eyes called be closed

soft silt laid down mattress-style fingers up and down and up yr back and down and  

down the highway gotta car now got to get gas soon now rot

expressions rot inspuration raise unallowed expectation ruin

ruining Boulder’s beauty-refundraiser thousands search for everyday so

stupid to believe in the chance of greatness is on a seat in front of a whiteboard behind a 
professor blah blah blah blah blah blah blah through the thousand dollar months

the I wastes its money inside the academy
the dead pan voice unversed

the splish splash of overflown bathtub these preoccupations slip slop out the heels

the I mute full of the unversty

Four

Ingrid is Eric

Study of Spring

Study of Spring

Suddenly, everywhere a newborn baby.

Natural wouldn’t give a shit

if you got snared in a thorny bush.

In fact,

This natural born killer hunts your

calcium bones

For all its soil. 

Nature will blow you down

a mountain on Monday,

Make prickle your descent

of a hill, small cacti

scattered. sets its

mosquitoes to your flesh.

Who is to blame for

Our dynamite war?

That sun who beams dryness

through our veins

while it hides water deep

in a mountain on Monday.

Why Our pavements

so upsetting to

Nature? Hardly, Our metal velocity

so downput by unbridged waters and

gaps in a jungle. Testify the climbers lose grips

and the river swimmers drown.

Look! The athletes of Earth

flee to their membership gyms,

every type of injury

categorized by square computers

Cannot compete with the wisdom of the wind

that moves sand dunes like ocean waves.

Want a higher purpose?

Go to school, read our books and

we will purpose you.

Want to purpose? Walk 30 miles West

build Nature into a hut

and make it your

bitch.