Read an Excerpt

On Battling (Baltimore Strut)

Gray cased in gray, shaken

            and truncated like timber,

            the bleat rouses all provinces,

calling each seed to surface

and insist on a redress. This trumpet

            of grief and homespun placards

            is met with gunmetal treads

bruising the fruit stands, mustard

gas suffocating the night's

            coruscation. As elbows

            lock before storefronts

to shelter shop windows

from the wallop of pitiless

            Kevlar, as flares browbeat

            boulevards and arsenals

are dispatched across the wet

gravel, a single shirtless

            seraph unfurls himself

            upon the tarmac. Flexing

faux leather, he gyrates, feather-

glides, thunderclaps, then jukes

            toward the 16,000-pound

            armored personnel carrier.

The bullying smog flinches

at his voltaic gait, as he peacocks

            into the boomerang hour,

            cranes his neck and shrieks 

to remind the intruder your tanks

are no match for my toprock.

Days of Being Wild (dir. Wong Kar-Wai, 1990)

            (Dissolve)

At the funeral of his birth the seamstresses sing matte-muted adagio

of rouge and torn hems. Oleaginous in both mane and vow. Bronze

king of ennui. She drifts across oxidized hallways. Her dress, the slug

line. Blue filtered lights and non-filtered cigarettes imbibe them.

CUT TO:          Closing credits. Exit. Pressed

            suit preens for role

            as auteur's unsung enigma.

One mistakes soliloquy for an affair. The other lives as an atoll, divot-

headed and bleak-lacquered. Boast-throated, he follows her like

a tracking shot that took the crew three weeks to stage. With days

drenched in despondent night, they mutiny through stasis, resist

CUT TO:          Again, that infernal clock.

            Train car hemorrhaging, roof

            top scaled. An ellipsis.

the throttling of the hours toward shopping carts glutted with ailment.

These railways run parallel but incongruent; one stretches toward

longing, the other hunts for omission. They sleep in the wind of radio

static. She sways for the unthreaded fishhook. He is a desert gawking

CUT TO:          Suitcase. Flower print dress.

            Unrequited knock at brass

            gates. Clock, grief-stricken.

in Dutch tilt at the inebriated street that spurned him. Reviled Coke

bottles. Bedroom slippers under the vanity caught in soft focus. 

Castigated like a dipsomaniacal gumshoe by the blunted edge

of minutes. Triangulated cravings asphyxiate them. Each tantalizes

CUT TO:          Pearl earring gifted to

            the second thief once

            reclaimed from the first.

the other through taciturn tides of withholding. Hell-bent on boring

the sea. But this mise-en-scne does not belong to them. This

is the viewer's Malebolge, a whorl of truancy spliced from B-rolls

of rambunctious prodigals who refuse to catch what they chase.

CUT TO:          Clock. Stairwell in need

            of serenading. Threat posing

            as flirtation. Opening credits.

            (Fade in)

Disco Ballistics

friday nights we prep for hot

skirmishes. take three to five

business days to primp and pick out

duds. shave. apply makeup. contact

all accomplices. hail our platoon.          

then a cab. breach the checkpoint

            with a wink. order a round of shots

            during tactical strike assemblies. stake

            out our first kill of the evening. flanked

            by chaise lounges and black lights.

            the beat drops in syncopation

            with our first village

raid. clink our cosmos like mac clips.

chuck disco ball grenades into middle

schools. flirt bump and grind. spawn

mushroom clouds in unisex bathroom

stalls. flick cigarettes sucked

to the filter onto the casualties

            we create. the styles we pilfer. smack

            lips in the mirror. launch glitter drone

            assassinations. snipe the bartender's

            digits. swipe high-security specs

            detailing an after-party in Kabul. drop

            big tips like food rations into Yemen.

barrage insurgents with shock and awe

of strobe lights and unsanctioned

gropes. engage in a war of attrition

with the dj. execute a fashion victory

march through the city square. retreat

to a downtown studio loft bunker. order

            a stop-loss for champagne brunch

            in the meatpacking district. debrief

            platoon on the briefs graves pearls

            buried and plundered. court-martial

            the sun for insubordinate conduct

            during the ceremonial walk of shame.

Cicatristes (Demo Version)

who tucked you in                who tucked

you                  brought you to the park

who tucked you brought you

lemonheads      baseball cards

marbles            who tucked you

touched you     brought you

the dark you feared       who touched you

when he tucked you              told you

it was supposed            to make you

smile                but you did could

would should    not smile

when he           tucked you

brought you      whittled you

into alabaster    who tucked you

in also taught you                 alphabet

and shared        his nerds with you

read to you       stole you stickers

before he          tucked you      

read you fed     you dark and now

you laugh because        it cauterizes

the conundrum the humdrum

to recall who gave         you the word

the sour stomach           who tucked you

slit and gauzed you       gave you

first aid and who           granted you

the means         to read it

Core Curriculum Standards: PS 137

tiled floor bedecked

sepia of potato

chip wrappers wet

newspapers rusty nails

gym shoe musk

ambling through unkempt

hallways fissure fresco

of soda stains

ailing fidget spinners

computer lab windows

swathed in shroud

of dollar store

electrical tape incorrigible

asbestos cavities hum

cancer anthems dipped

in chocolate fluorescent

lights dial supplications

above bulletin board

molting pastel homilies

to auto repair

diorama sprawled across

webster avenue crowing

                        ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS

                        UNIT STUDY

                        EGYPTIAN GODS

                        AND PHARAOHS