<\/p>\n
(pace<\/em> Al Moritz\u2019s The Garden<\/em>)<\/p>\n The Depression<\/em>? Orchestrated pretty ugly indulgences Drat! Whose Genius<\/em> be superior to Drudgery<\/em>? Well, Skip James demo\u2019d absolute Impertinence<\/em>\u2014 Dude produced Pre-Raphaelite spirituals\u2014 How else to answer \u201cI\u2019m So Glad\u201d No more mulling, moping, griping! for Luciano Iacobelli<\/em><\/p>\n Igneous\u2014volcanic\u2014blood, coal-fire-hued, Brain bits sprayed\u2014rude as a Vegas harlot!<\/p>\n Had he not giggled at threats<\/em>? Well, lenders The shooter discarded his playing cards: Johnny Maserati\u2019s grave. <\/p>\n Oxygen<\/p>\n Caved to lead; Jack\u2019s head splayed: Frayed, red tin.<\/p>\n Never a dissatisfied elderessa, (Lookit! Only a bed\u2014disoccupato<\/em>\u2014stinks!)<\/p>\n O how we leagued in that bar<\/p>\n where trumpets beleaguered no-holds-barred blues!<\/p>\n You were an outright \u201cPinko,\u201d if yet a Sphinx, (Though I was\u2014I admit\u2014prurient.)<\/p>\n I was wed. You brought to my hotel room an orange rose:<\/p>\n Such shrewd gold.<\/p>\n Non mollare\u2026. Pace<\/em> Barcelona, there was absinthe after the usual boola boola<\/em>\u2014 We\u2019d hied to the Obama Caf\u00e9\u2014 (I shit you not.)<\/p>\n But shadows tumbled about Fast, I was shot down\u2014like a diseased dog.<\/p>\n Because I was errant, had strayed\u2014 though now, knew I, she did, Thus, here she was, unburdening himself\u2014 as if my reputedly steely heart The loser thumbs comics\u2014disgruntled, cranky\u2014 *<\/p>\n Lookit! Her roses blush to ogle her Beauty<\/em>. Unshuttered, buttered by the fluttering light\u2014 Dick Nixon is wandering along a side-street here\u2014 But no sourpuss can outdo a glamour puss! But Jackie outdoes\u2014is foxier than\u2014 *<\/p>\n The \u201cfirecracker\u201d or \u201cbackfire\u201d ricochets The in-yo-face killing dares to seize History<\/em>, On 17 February, 1993, Snow flummoxed that azura-negra night\u2014 Everyone applauded our still-early, Spring picnic\u2014 the hangdog envious\u2014 My threads were denim\u2014 played bewitching wool stitches over her breasts, Who would snitch on our kisses?<\/p>\n The grumbling riffraff about Each kiss? A theft of maple syrup! Still, we were fully winter-clothed statues, But I now was oblivious Mortal Generosity<\/em> there was in her kisses so diamantine decorous as was the sky\u2014 was sorrowful to be contained We lolled upon sand and gritty pebbles, What else to do but deliver Instead, we hugged\u2014 Lookit! Chastity<\/em> is a provincial Virtue<\/em>, and I\u2019d rather perish beneath hooves\u2014 for what is desired is valuable, Amid the black harbour\u2019s ivory foam\u2014 and thunder Love<\/em>\u2014 Never was I a well-featured Adonis, Homage to Skip James (pace Al Moritz\u2019s The Garden) The Depression? Orchestrated pretty ugly indulgences of contemptuous melodies due to diminished motor skills of bony-digit \u201cget-tar\u201d pickers, fidgety pianists, who had to humble down and join grumblin road gangs bashin rocks with pick-axes, sledgehammers, thereby manglin their mitts, so fingers go outta key with keyboards, fret with strings, or…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":5187,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4669","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4669","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4669"}],"version-history":[{"count":41,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4669\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5239,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4669\/revisions\/5239"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5187"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4669"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4669"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue27\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4669"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nof contemptuous melodies
\ndue to diminished motor skills
\nof bony-digit \u201cget-tar\u201d pickers, fidgety pianists,
\nwho had to humble down and join grumblin road gangs
\nbashin rocks with pick-axes, sledgehammers,
\nthereby manglin their mitts,
\nso fingers go outta key with keyboards, fret with strings,
\nor songsters cough up bloody TB,
\nor drummers quake with DT,
\ncos they be waist-deep in mud and Putrefaction
\n<\/em>in roadside ditches all Abomination
\n<\/em>with circumadjacent bilge;
\nand there is no wine or other sauces
\n(or there\u2019s too much rotgut moonshine
\nplus bread no better than unbreakable stone).<\/p>\n
\nDrat! Whose Genius<\/em> be superior to Poverty<\/em>?<\/p>\n
\nmustering \u201cbull must,\u201d
\nmustering \u201cmustang tang\u201d\u2014
\nno mushy groping for soft-pedal\u2019d notes,
\nno atrocious fumbling for twangy notes:<\/p>\n
\ndeliberately errant Gaiety<\/em>\u2014
\ndespite all poorhouse, workgang carping
\no\u2019er the Depression<\/em>\u2019s killing-floors, butchery,
\ntorture chambers,
\nall pestilence and parasites, eh?<\/p>\n
\nacross 18 \u201casides\u201d and \u201cbesides\u201d
\nof Paramount, celestial recordings?!!<\/p>\n
\nNo discount breath!
\nNo mo Interposition<\/em> ou<\/em> Nullification<\/em>!<\/p>\n\u201cBrazen\u201d Daylight Shooting in Little Italy<\/h3>\n
\nThat ruined rou\u00e9 issued. Skull gone scarlet
\nAs bullets played and dealt; his head\u2019s skewed lewd:<\/p>\n
\nOkayed vitriol, daggers, and hellacious,
\nAudacious shootings\u2014to bag\u2014loot\u2014tenders
\nOf cash; or<\/em> cash out debts, tenacious.<\/p>\n
\nHis sun-lit gamble\u2014bluff disguise\u2014blond wig,
\nHardhat, pale face (tough to place mid boulevards)\u2014
\nWhile his trigger (squeezed) pleased a spade to dig<\/p>\nHelsinki\u2014I<\/h3>\n
\nyou aroused Wonder<\/em> tantamount to Temptation<\/em>,
\nas we spiralled down that staircase at Storyville,
\nto saxophones spunkily sultry,
\noozing jazz that must\u2019ve slinked through Helsinki,
\nmating man and minx
\nin loop-de-loop hijinks.<\/p>\n
\nas we twisted our way back up the stairs,
\nmy eyes \u201cAh!\u201d-ing at your \u201cBut \u2026 but.\u201d
\nSure, I was hopeful because you were beautiful;
\nand, yes, I was selfish, but dared not act fishy\u2014
\nbecause you weren\u2019t wishy washy\u2014
\n(and this mustn\u2019t go unacknowledged)\u2014
\nbut inimitably, uninhibitedly luxuriant.<\/p>\n
\nI was about to do colossal Wrong<\/em>.
\n(Not your fault:
\nAll the convenient obstacles had been tripped, sprung;
\nbut were quickly nullified or mollified or ossified.)<\/p>\n
\n<\/em>(Do not flinch\u2026.)
\nthought I,
\nas our coverings fell away.<\/p>\nPace Barcelona<\/h3>\n
\nand Heartbreak<\/em>,
\n‘neath my Solsona<\/em>, silk-soft, honey-tint, leather vest\u2014<\/p>\n
\nbunga-bunga<\/em>\u2014
\nmago-mago<\/em>\u2014
\ni.e., ecstasies\u2026.<\/p>\n
\nthe 44th<\/sup> U.S. Prez\u2019s life-size figure pretzel\u2019d
\ninto an outdoor table\u2019s corner,
\nsmiley-faced, gregariously inviting.<\/p>\n
\nas she mumbled disconsolate
\ninto an ominous Negroni.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cbanging\u201d another lady
\n(who I didn\u2019t adore)
\nbecause my Finnish redhead had said
\nshe didn\u2019t care;<\/p>\n
\nbut was finishing us<\/em> off\u2014
\ngiven my rationalized\u2014but unreasonable\u2014\u201cLust<\/em>\u201d
\n(that mirage that ends in Mania<\/em>)\u2014
\ngiven my being no more resolute than a dream.<\/p>\n
\nmy stelletta<\/em>\u2014little star\u2014
\nher stiletto drilling home\u2014<\/p>\n
\ncould be really so acutely unfeeling.
\n
\n <\/p>\nProfile of an Assassination<\/h3>\n
\nCreeps up the Schoolbook Depository
\nStairwell, cracks and throats an ice-cold black Coke,
\nSlides the sleek rifle from its brown-tint sheathe
\nOf paper bag, then peeps out a sixth-floor ledge,
\nTo frame the blond head of the bland, grinning
\nPresident; i.e., to burn a black hole in History<\/em>\u2014
\nOr help anonymous others to red-ink the obit,
\nThose sly Wall Street Nazis playing their \u201cpatsy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nThe crowd preens, pressing their faces against
\nLenses, to try to frame this National
\n<\/em>Enquirer<\/em> belle-to-the-White-House-born,
\nBorne so dreamily off by the cradling limousine.
\nTheir faces press\u2014like leaves\u2014against the glare,<\/p>\n
\nThe ritzy, glitzy sun\u2014even though autumn
\nIs sickening the leaf-depleted, wind-stricken trees.<\/p>\n
\nAs unremarked as a suave pickpocket:
\nAfter all, he lost, he lost, he lost: Double-crossed!
\nHis lynchee-like face is pinched, grimacing, at recall
\nOf the choice, Chicago, mobster shenanigans
\nThat let sleight-of-hand Jack hijack the White House,
\nThat let them palm a Victory<\/em> and pass it off
\nTo a brother Catholic, \u201call in the Mafia<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n(Yep, Tricky Dick!
\nNo sourpuss can outdo a glamour puss!)<\/p>\n
\nPat Nixon under the high-noon, lemony sun.
\nThe First Lady lights a cigarette later; inhales
\nChocolate combined with insecticide:
\nThat\u2019s the deluxe mix, plus chalk dust,
\nFor anyone wanting to ignite 60s tobacco\u2026.<\/p>\n
\nAnd expands outward as the motorcade
\nTurns its back on one asinine assassin.
\nThe black limo is a bright artifact of Class
\n<\/em>Struggle<\/em> as it purrs infinitesimally
\nSlowly into the plotted sights of the jobless
\nDivorc\u00e9-to-be, whose rifle must bark
\nBlank Surprise<\/em> and Crisis<\/em>\u2014and Criticism
\n<\/em>For the white-fanged imperialist, so chic
\nAnd jaunty, untouchable in the car.<\/p>\n
\nTo gut the Golden Boy of his brain blood
\nVia<\/em> the inquisitive, expletive fury of
\nGun-shots, so that the Commander-In-Chief
\nSlumps his bloody noggin on the Chanel-pink lap
\nOf his wife, surrendering to sun-lit
\nInertia<\/em>. Now an instant hearse, the limo speeds
\nThe felled statesman to defective scalpels,
\nWhile Abe Zapruder shoots his ruthless perspective.<\/p>\nPersonal Passage<\/h3>\n
\nI jetted from Boston, home of John Kennedy,
\nTo New Orleans where Lee Oswald loved,
\nThen to Dallas, where both met and died\u2014
\nAs if the Titanic \u201cmeeting its Waterloo.\u201d<\/p>\nApril 16, 1977 (Viewed from April 16, 2024)<\/h3>\n
\ndarkly ultramarine as the Black Sea\u2014
\nbut wasn\u2019t really flogging\u2014
\njust petting us\u2014
\nwhere our asses plunked on a blanket on chilly sand\u2014
\nour kissing suddenly safe\u2014
\nbecause we were among other lovers,
\nthe tit-for-tat, squealing \u201cmolesters,\u201d
\nall also teens,
\nbut only I brought the tutti-frutti Manischewitz<\/em>\u2014
\nplum-purple, super-sweet, cheapo vino<\/em>,
\nwhile she brought the cooked, blackened lasagna
\nin Tupperware plastic\u2014
\nplus plastic forks\u2026.<\/p>\n
\na ballyhooed fiesta\u2014
\nspread out upon Black Rock Beach
\namong the gutting hoots and catcalls
\nof whistling bozos\u2014<\/p>\n
\nthe downcast-and-depressing nerds,
\nthose somnambulating virgins\u2026.<\/p>\n
\nas were hers,
\nbut her oversized green sweater<\/p>\n
\nand the stars were no better than knickknacks
\nin compare\u2014
\nonce the snow ceased strafing our faces.<\/p>\n
\nhad to battle cold and fatigue,
\nbut we slurped the belly-warming, deep purple wine,
\nand could thus ignore blissfully
\nany clattering car engines in the beach-side parking lot,
\nor the egregious chattering
\nof the jealous and barking lot.<\/p>\n
\nI budged my thigh next to hers,
\nnudged her to recline,
\nand she never begrudged gravity its due.<\/p>\n
\nif aching with Desire<\/em>,
\nwhile the tide scattered splashes,
\nor dashed upon and battered rocks,
\nwhile our blue-jeaned bottoms
\nwarmed the estival bed that is sand.<\/p>\n
\nto star-encrusted night
\nand the adorable crinkles of black water\u2014
\nthat violent theatre of white froth surfing
\natop black,
\nwith neither predominant for long.<\/p>\n
\nwhile the tide crashed near our feet\u2014<\/p>\n
\nbut my blood, rampant in my loins,<\/p>\n
\nby my inconceivable Purity<\/em>\u2014
\nthe foolish Splendour
\n<\/em>or metamorphosised Ardour<\/em>\u2014
\nas I bade her welcome precious, happy guitars\u2014
\nSpringsteen crooning \u201cNew York City Serenade\u201d
\nor one of the Beatles fine-tuning \u201cAnd I Love Her\u201d\u2026.<\/p>\n
\nscraps of Music<\/em> emerging urgent from the tape deck,
\nand I was all rigid Intensity<\/em>,
\nand she was Sister Golden-Haired Clarity<\/em>\u2014
\nsilvery-white, mercurial Virginity<\/em>\u2014
\nand the night was star-struck Liminality<\/em>\u2026.<\/p>\n
\nthe trophy of Reverence<\/em>,
\nthough I was cobra-erect,
\ni.e., poised like an arrow
\nto notch the target!<\/p>\n
\nthat nebulous Coitus<\/em>\u2014
\nand slugged back the wine\u2014
\nand I felt I was sailing upon ignited flames\u2014
\njust as embers do;
\ndespite the extraordinary dampness of her lips,
\nand the formidable texture of her sweater-swaddled breasts.<\/p>\n
\nbut Charity<\/em> is a democratic one,
\n<\/em>and I was as rancorous as the Atlantic\u2014
\ncantankerous as a volcano\u2014
\nits outburst uncontainable;<\/p>\n
\nor like a Bolshevik-overturned cathedral\u2014
\nthan not have her,
\nengrave her,
\nunder the moon\u2019s nocturnal zone,<\/p>\n
\nbut what is dismissed hath none.<\/p>\n
\nexuberant as volcanoes aflame\u2014
\nI had to ground myself
\nwithin a grotto of paroxysms\u2014
\nto be as uncompromising as birth or death,
\nand fandango tango upon
\neminently tantalizing Femininity<\/em>\u2014
\nunder infuriatingly coruscating, celestial orbs\u2014
\nthe Champagne-buffed, black-caviar beach\u2014<\/p>\n
\nagainst Serenity<\/em>\u2014
\nunto May\u2019s lush fireworks of blossoms\u2026.<\/p>\nMay 19, 1979<\/h3>\n
\nbut just a scant-identified, if maladjusted bard,
\nas I set forth that Mayteenth
\nof simmer and shimmying heat\u2014
\nof shimmering and swimming light\u2014
\nto go boldly into that threshold,
\nso wild-rose bowered and sunflower heightened\u2014
\na garden jurisdiction\u2014
\nwhere she could behold me
\nveritably transfigured\u2014
\nall purely non-fiction, a chevalier\u2014no longer shy or Doubt<\/em>-beleaguered\u2014
\nbut a swashbuckling, cavalier guy,
\na strong poet buckling only to Love<\/em>.
\n Her wood-smoke aroma interrupted the rose garden
\nabruptly. No joke! Quick, I entered into a coma
\nsummoned by the quintessence of almond
\nand chocolate: Her own saturating scent. Please pardon
\nmy unexpected Romanticism as I describe
\nthe hoard of gauze she was\u2014
\naccorded such flouncing light
\nintricate and delicate and prescribed
\nsolely to that tribe of women
\nup past the sawmill and the waterfall
\nhigh on the hills above Weymouth,
\nwhere the Sissiboo River shivers south;
\nand where I stood before her, my words floundering,
\nmy sense and tenses all no good,
\nher very eyes sundering
\nmy heart, as I sought to tell her
\nof my wildcat, bobcat, tomcat Love<\/em>,
\nbut my artful tongue kept getting caught\u2014
\nhellishly\u2014
\nas she sighed her ominous Caution<\/em>,
\nknowing too, too well,
\nhow Passion
\n<\/em>is synonymous with Crucifixion<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"