OUTTAKES

by James Mc Elroy


§

Head injuries
The mind,
Part I,

And this is it:
The satiable
Suck – instamatic
Spasm – that finds
Itself buried
Deep inside
Each abused caress
While emphasizing,
Left and right, some
Unfirm/unquit sag,

Or, if preferred,
A cul de sac of
Facial desire
We like to call
Human squirm.

§

Part II ( in A
Head injuries
The mind,
Minor),

As FM
Gets a lead
On some cuts
From ‘Let it Bleed.’

Next up,
Some Bad English
At or near boiling
Point,
And then Pound
Per
Pound –

And this for
All you
Heteroglossic
Stud muffins –

A slice of
Purest
EZRA
From somewhere
In “the house.”

That’s right,
Let’s do some
Sweet and sweaty
From way
Outside the hood
With one more
Standing brick in
The wall.

§

Head injuries
The mind,
Part III,

Wherein
A disquisition
On blah:

The overheard of
Critics who talk
About talking about

A poet who might,
When the time is right,
Get down to writing

The ex-lives
And swollen faces
Of all our four-letter

Words; words which do
Their level best
To describe

The mysticism of eyes
Closed, the mystery
Of eyes open, or

The rhythmic sound
Of a 9 inch voice when
The “I’s” have it.

§

Head injuries
The mind,
Part IV:

In an endless with
Stones that seem
To grow, grow even
Smaller, in an unknown
Nation

The hard men – such
As they are –
Come into their own
Like mongrels who circle
Around before
Turning into a pack;

Proclaiming, as well
They might, the imminent
Appearance of blue, full-grown,
Nuns who cannot walk
On water.

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