Stump Pump

…and it questions me to call on:

Which impinging possession,
that decadent era, differed
as form, by gradation,
under impression?

Night Barking

That night I was
the concentrate encamped kapo
trading two brothers (in)
for three thin threads of meat

Last night I hoped
Heine would concede to assail me
& my horny cut could
deceive a surrogate sweet

This night I heard
sparkling iron grate and closing
white wall skinnies
dripped a cross of toasted bone

One night I roiled or
tumbled a teasing blessing
snugly fit in loss of my
(Damn Me) g-d abandoned home

The Man

The Man who saw a ghost
was The Man without a face
was The Man who wasn’t there
was The Man of no name

The Man you want to be
was The Man in a naked mask
was The Man who ate busted glass
was The Man behind the screen

The Man that you put down
was The Man from Abilene
was The Man from East Kenosha
was The Man on Jefferson Ave.

The Man that ends this way
was The Man on the preserve container
was The Man that faced his test
was The Man that consumed your brain

The Man who lies tonight
was The Man of questionable intent
was The Man of dubious lament
was The Man who learned to reach

The Man that’s on the case
was The Man that stands alone
was The Man in a dirty suit
was The Man who loved to kill

The Man down there you know
was The Man that didn’t care
was The Man that never tasted love
was The Man of ancient rights

The Man on the fast rail out
was The Man who cried in the breeze
was The Man that spake a word
was The Man that jabs away at moon dust