249 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
249 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
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w _____ ____ 1 333 333 "The Dregs of My Poetry" w
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D // | \ 11 3 3 by Yancey Slide D
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* || ____ | || | 1 333 333 *
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G || || \ / | || | 1 3 3 issue #133 of "GwD: The American Dream G
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w \\___// \/\/ |____/ 111 333 333 with a Twist -- of Lime" * rel 06/10/03 w
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--- -- - -- --- -- - -- --- -- - -- --- -- - -- ---
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Sweet
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My black-sugar baby in a pretty plastic dress
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Hums a bubbly bit for me, a thrill when
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I can't find none, in class, at work
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Just anytime, my baby is there,
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Sweet as ever, to keep me on top.
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But when the top stays off, baby gets
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Cloying sweet, sticky, nasty, mean, all the
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Fun's let out. Baby ain't bubbly, pour her out.
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Always another baby; ain't but
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Two bits apiece.
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(2/11/03)
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We grew up in Texas but
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when it was time to marry
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Kailas came north, to
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where she was from
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New Hampshire
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where it's pretty.
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(In Trivandrum,
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the city blushes with
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saris and songs,
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and smiles to see the
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easy English name retire
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behind the coconut trees
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of Thiruvananthapuram)
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Two families, two weddings,
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Like a brother I'm invited, to India
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but I can't go, there's no way
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to pay, there's no Atlantic train,
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smoky, stuffy, and stuffed-
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full of smoking men,
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sprouting from windows, like
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bald Ben Kingsley
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as Gandhi, coming home.
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(Kerala blooms, and families,
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like flowers, drift down rivers
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that are clean like holy things are
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to meet the foreign girl, and send
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her down the river, to drift,
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like flowers until she's clean
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like holy things and families are.)
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New Hampshire,
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A nice day, a nice service
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I officiate, as compromise,
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not collared priest or
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inscrutable ascetic; acceptable
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to the families, I walk them through
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a nice service, with
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flowers and a song.
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(Ganesha leers at Vishnu's spear
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on brassy gongs that ring
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in wedding songs, as her hands
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are henna-bound, in nut-brown
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whorls that stoop and twist
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around her wedding band and
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the flowers given to the fire)
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In New Hampshire, Christ
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is satisfied, his service done;
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Ganesha waits his turn
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while I sit on the steps
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and think of him
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and Thiruvananthapuram.
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(2/17/03)
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Sidling, I slipped in late,
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twisted through the angry knees
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that stiffened as I snuck a peek
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from a far-back seat, too far to see
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if you were smiling, and too far for you
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to see me if you looked;
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I smiled, but didn't stop, I just
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kept creeping, closer to the stage,
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past any empty seats,
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as long as I kept moving, clambering
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seeping through the angry knees, I wouldn't
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sit and see you not seeing me.
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I picked around the ragged line
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of laps and furled programs, rolled
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like sweaty cigarettes to smolder
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in impatient thighs that snapped as
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I folded mine, pristine, to prove
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that I was there.
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I slunk around the jutting, pointing feet
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of honest folk, who pointed toes at me but
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sucked it in and twisted while I scrabbled,
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penitent but unpausing until I was close
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and you could have seen me
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if you looked.
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I hunkered, stretched, and touched the stage,
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to moor against the crests of knees and shoals
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of hooking ankles, and watched, to see
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if you were smiling; when I knew
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I cast off, reversed my course,
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and climbed back out again.
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(02/25/03)
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Green dream
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A tree buries its head, and roots
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its proboscis and ten thousand tongues
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into the earth, where it eats, constantly,
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and mulls the green dream of swarming,
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beetle-bright leaves that frothed on brittle
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stick legs and crawled against the wind.
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Manic, it will not bear red thoughts of fruit
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when the million facets of its one bright eye
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have stared into the sun and burned brown
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and dropped, like flies, to creep into the dirt
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that it chews.
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(03/03/03)
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Ghazaline
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I will spare one eye for you to keep in the light
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a gecko that waits and sleeps in the light.
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To brew a sweet tea, we'll eat herbs
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and pool our sweat to steep in the light.
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Purple is a night shade, that ferments
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in bars and looks cheap in the light.
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A spasm sends your skirts out, to skirl
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and stretch out to sweep in the light.
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A lozenge pins my teeth to either side,
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and spat, dives deep, deep in the light.
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The grit in my vein is a platelet, plaintive
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it wails for a wound, to weep in the light.
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Put your lips to my ear and Call into the night,
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"You sot! Open up! Let seep in the light!"
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(03/11/03)
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1.
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My books fold space around themselves
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like black-letter black holes; they are
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too heavy to bear thinking about.
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The train can only bear so much mass,
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before it would curl in on itself,
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and throw me back to work.
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My brother's couch is padded
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with stinking cat hair, but warm
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and so much like home.
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2.
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My books smother space and time
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and immure me in law, like
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black-letter black holes.
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My ticket prods the train to climb
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and shudder on its tracks, straining
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to lull me while it pulls me from the well.
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My brother's cats obliterate me
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but even their stinking hair
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doesn't make it less like home.
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3.
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My books smother space and time
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and immure me in law, like
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black-letter black holes.
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My ticket prods the train to climb
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and shudder on its tracks, straining
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to pull me from the well.
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My brother's couch is padded
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with stinking cat hair, but warm
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and so much like home.
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(3/18/03)
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Fourteenth Edition
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Every thing in this room orbits
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the black-letter black hole
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that buffets me from where it sits
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and warps my desk into a bowl.
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I teeter on the lip, and feel the prod
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of guilty conscience make me roll
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faster than I'm inclined to plod
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to work when there's a TV set to lull
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me with a cheery bright facade.
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I'll ward myself against the pull
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of all the cases I should be reading
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by thinking just how dull
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the law can really be, but heeding
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inexorable dutiful gravity;
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there's no chance of my succeeding
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against the terrible depravity
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of this textbook's awesome cavity.
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(3/18/03)
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Law is a gullet
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that does not swallow
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ever.
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(3/19/03)
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--- -- - -- --- -- - -- --- -- - -- --- -- - -- ---
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Issue#133 of "GwD: The American Dream with a Twist -- of Lime" ISSN 1523-1585
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copyright (c) MMIII Yancey Slide/GwD Publications /---------------\
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copyright (c) MMIII GwD, Inc. All rights reserved :LASERBEAM BOZOS:
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a production of The GREENY world DOMINATION Task Force, Inc. : GwD :
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Postal: GwD, Inc. - P.O. Box 16038 - Lubbock, Texas 79490 \---------------/
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FYM -+- http://www.GREENY.org/ - editor@GREENY.org - submit@GREENY.org -+- FYM
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