November Novocain 3.0

When Black Fridays Comes-

12.00

*

Black F 1*

When Black Friday comes
I’ll stand down by the door
And catch the grey men when they
Dive from the fourteenth floor
When Black Friday comes
I’ll collect everything I’m owed
And before my friends find out
I’ll be on the road

Steely Dan- Black Friday- Kiety lied- sing along link-Just follow the bouncing bimbo

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTMj8x75pWk

black F 4*

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When Black Friday comes

the Consumers of Gridville

huddle in the parking lots

in predawn frozen blackness

waiting for the sensor doors

to activate and swing open

so that the ensuing stampede

into the widget warehouse

can gush cheap trinket

torrents of electronic desire

to purge themselves

of what limited imaginations

they have left and have not

squandered and impaled

upon product acquisition

Black F 2

suggestions programmed

to them by fiber optic

daily behavioral vampires

so well appointed

with glistening fangs

of fashion compulsion

obsessive consumption

in a I-Pad-I-Phone I- Me Me Me Me vortex

instantly alerting them

of the nowhere

they lust

Is here

In stock

On Sale

And they simply cannot

live with or without it.

#useless/clueless

*

 –  The Terrible Now   2007

 Trees & Wires 2*

 All Souls Day

*

 November shrugged at the time the masks slipped

Stripped away in the face of high wind warnings

As if this season begged advisement cautions

 

Still mild that morning fooling few to believe

That this day would pass swaddled in a gray soft gauze

While the light diffused diminishing increments

 

Was that encroaching mist unraveling like a ball of yarn

To cascade down a slope of cotton yawn

Falling in needle pinpoints liquefied

 

There was this puncturing of scattered shallow puddles

Reverberating in sound wave concrete circles

Auditory auditions sharpening a deaf set of eyes

 

In these stains of ink

Lurk faceless memories I think

Past persona gone non-grata

 

November shrugged at the time the masks slipped away

 Reveling the naked face of high wind awnings

As if this season begged advisement cautions

 

Stripped away now in alibis and warnings

*

 

Uncollected 11/13.

*

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Novocaine NeedleMaybe Some Novocain?

 

Chock Full of Nuts

is no longer

a  heavenly anything

anymore

 Transparent as black coffee

understood at last;

He was now merely

 half a pound of chopped chuck

handed over by Bruno Kisski

Who spoke fluent tracheotomy

to an over the counter fool

wrapped in stiff white common paper

 with the price

penciled in on the top.

 

All I had to do back then was pocket the change

and deliver it back around the corner.

Once it ticked upon your face

and the sound escaped upon your ears.

The price

……….this time.

All that you never conceive being true

Merely justify the overhead

and define the bottom line.

 

So now you try to force the black hands forward

Faster than they are supposed to go.

While a single slim red finger

that sweeps so sure and fine

that seconds soundlessly slide

in an inkling of eviscerated hope

 

The movement imperceptible impression

toward an inevitable destination.

Maybe some

Novocain in November

Maybe not.

 

This would then plug your ears

To hear any further

Than just you what

You didn’t want to hear

To believe this…..

the texture in this request

to embrace the selfish din

and when put to the question

to the naked test,

“Where is it have I been?”

Smile and nod and start with, “Listen….”

 

I would pull the fingers from deep your ears

and lick the wax

that accumulated in there

to harden, numb and deafen

with the passing of the years

 

Next  I whisper now,

 “Watch”

You just watch

Then tune the tongue out

in time to match

the mute with the deaf

over a bottomless cup of

freshly brewed

numbness.

          From Sometimes Grief 2012

f 20

Miller Shrine down*

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Supper Time

*

In the first chill of any dusk

the gathering in November

put vermillion in blue blankets

and put your dreams to bed.

When the chilly air smells like a menu

but your being sent to your room without any supper.

Tonight’s Special is vapor.

There is this fresh watercolor gone slightly stiff

to walk out into

One sidewalk year at a time.

Just waiting for your everyday heel and toe

to provide demarcation, passage and impression.

Here is the supper time on earth

where all is ordered and consumed flesh.

It comes in by the mouthful

or the plateful

The harlot; the hopper; the carousal caress.

Here all that has been grown

has been harvested if in season

seeds did flourish.

Inside the breath is of forced air

that rustles invisible fingers

running across the

fine hairs on the back of your neck

till there is this brush back

and your container rots off

and you’re never hungry again.

*

From Another Rubbereden

Summer 92

12

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