If the nightcrawlers sing through the loam tonight will I join them
A boy who was born
with the blown out voice
of a legendary
backwoods catcaller
& built his fortune on the scalp of his Anna
in the podunk
vistas of nowhere
•
Will I join them the nightcrawlers
if they chew
through the soil & sing
& gasp for pink dew
& meat
like the wood that gasped through my pink when I started my teething
•
If they sing will she barb them my love in her eating dress
so schlank my Anna
married off
like a heath-dweller
& into the arms
of her reddleman
Can she hear them the fish hooks still ring
like our teens
when we were hated & ate our handful of worms like the song bragged
•
It’s the law
Rome told me
I was gassed next slung to a hinny next chased from town with my hands tied
I woke & was ancient
next gutshot
next slack
next saw
the tramps sleeping
in Bank of America
& dressing the sores in the heat the earth let escape her
It was a menagerie of tramps
like a handful of nightcrawlers
& dreaming they’re eating
themselves back inside her
•
But have you met my new love
the sylph
drunk like a war hero on armistice day & flaunting her Croix de guerre
She smells the song
the nachtmusik
I sing when I’m trying to touch her
& cracks her legs
her eyes for the sailors
“Her mound”
“She’s my lowing sinkhole”
•
His face that was armor it’s chinked like a cutting board
he sullies
my catwalk down Broadway
she lows
(love ignores love
ignores & goes
rogue)
My inamorata the sylph in her crinoline skirt & her fishnets
I belong
in this Canyon of Heroes she lows
catcalled & flogged
like white meat
& hornswaggled
she hums to her mouthful of worms
•
Is this our spoils boys
for sacking Rome
I hum to my mouthful of worms
I was legendary
in my hey
in my pink
with my fortunes hung low for my Anna
You look at me now
I’m paler
than Ovid
& punching the earth with a trake & cleaning
your love from my hooks
like a dusting of misfired snow
•
& Anna the worms
can we join them the worms
who sang you off to your reddleman
& Anna your fortune
is your fortune
in Bank of America
& Anna the tramps
do you feed them your meat & your spoils
do you feed them the loam they dream they eat back inside you
& Anna the sores
tonight in your crinoline I see you dressing your sores
I see you cleaning my love from your trake
& Anna the nightcrawlers
we’re so far from our heath
& will we join the nightcrawlers beneath the gutshot columns of Rome
