Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Convenience Store




















A living man, a cunning man

whose curiosity, dispassion --

the putative crime of gawking

surreptitiously from the aisle of plastic knives --


I wondered whether she,

clearly from Africa, was dragging her leg

because of a question put strongly

because of an impatience about something at stake.


You know, in the old days -- harried from the shtetl,

railed forth from formal schooling at Berlin -- 

they stood footsore in the camp dust, soon barbered

of their long locks afforded for the dolls of lucky girls.


And cunning men, tired of their passion

in the afterhours of exquisite music and talk

of the freeing-up of humankind,

connived efficiencies unthought-of regarding skin.


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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

The Fascist Cut



















Who cares about who cares

writing it down is an act of arrogance is a virtue

someone must think, and it's me, and I'm quick and others follow

the scars of experience on a face called text

the whole point is action and the hell with them.


Like a poem about a dog, a cloud, an egg, and a she

one must shoot the dog, eat the egg, fly through a cloud of fucking her

and go high on a sunny place to head a regime.


You see, choice is for the weak.  We're here, just straight-off verbs.


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