steve dalachinsky & jim leftwich - 5 hams & an angel wink

5 hams & an angel wink

give five a room never ticks

which pillow describes the details

      away window from birds

      pigeons scalp the cough

over the wall they went barely missed

the autoexoplamsa nearly striking their glands

the long & short of it being feathers flewing

& yet still i try hard with the right foot not to divulge

my pigeon-toed xylophonic expressive soul/knotta  

without success (what a deal)

the unusual link between alzheimer's & the commune cold

 & what a deal we got spiritual disunity &

        memory repair protocol, total

recall, Stan Musial, the Wal-Mart of the Deal, memory

      sticks blink and despair, between

ritual robo-calling and senility-as-mutiny

 sensibility as drug addiction missing a face

a nose the eye socket blown out the shadow lost

   the insignificant molestation of DNA inside a so/what

solvent signifiers a rose is a nose is a hose is a rose

no sense of a mollusk in the pocket or on the rug

  as the beet (H) oven goes on tagine stinker rocket

        no tense of molest as the toes blows gloes s(o)not(a)

  eat the ghost and wink the sprocket, at the behest

            of Frank Sinatra, who blows his nose

      washes his clothes & strikes the classic sweat pose

                 gone solid amazing sore did the angle

 anquished ante bad poker/faced in side flush which faced with no tense

             eroica as hero(in) sheeps cloths washes down anti-dope

​       splashes bone in antique

      rinse​ squalid as antic heroic

         erotica sad stripes maze

  smoking traced the angel mush

               unplucketed stars cheer dodo mamarosa plummage

                                 plummeted off the washboard bridge grap

                                      ate frankly birth life longing wee wee hours gulp

        the beast nose sweats and the angel face clots

        the beat toe swats and the angel mace slots

        the eat no watts and the angel ace lots

        eat no rats and the angel race rots

                     i munch on tate tots & realize my life has been shortened

   i am short & short of breath - my angles are getting more angular

               bottom bottom meets my top  the feast of brats commences

      the chamber of commerce snorts my lunch

  bratwurst, grits and Barney Fife smuggle in a knife in a cake

i am reading Bob Kaufman in the parking lot of a Burger King near Disputanta

where Kaufman Carpets once had their headquarters

   now dispersed amongst the bourgeouis duddlefuds cancerously

            punkdom punctum pendu lum or plain dumb

 lodged inside my referential body / lung / liver / bladder / hum / ham

december 2017