. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Monday, February 19, 2018

Gabriella


Gabriella succumbed to the night and fell to pieces
let the stars inside her head because Death
(that old dread)
had been defeated
in her pleated skirt and transparent shirt her rosette nipples
begged like orphans to be needed
I conceded
for who wouldn't??
challenged her to combat until one of us was left bleeding
until only one heart was left beating
until the crescent moon packed up its silver light for the night
and retreated.

TA

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Layla


     Layla, travel weary princess
and tireless fence runner
hunter in the heather in leather and clean linens
spent dreaming
spent spinning
red devil in your red ears ever listening
found you drowning in the heat of your own clutch
where it feels no pain
where it
hurts
in the center of your heart where the dark fire burns
     Layla, spend your summer nights
(if you must)
in pursuit of that holy truth
in the dirty bed in the center of my room
trumpets playing midnight tunes to crows and thieves
and fools
Jesus in the warm heart of a whore
     Layla, with pockets full of gum and copper change
nothing is
as it was before
nothing changes
a dangling moon hangs as low as it always has
gravity as heavy as invisible gas
silver serpents cold to the core
lower us into the burning flame
I cried
she sang
everything seemed rearranged
every
thing.

TA

Monday, February 5, 2018

The Cavalcade Prayer


I guess he's ready to eat,
to serve himself in that hot summer heat,

Seems this old dog's ready to dine,
fresh chunks of horse flesh hang heavy in clumps o'er a red fire,

Long days through the cold grey of winter,
from cub to cultured adulthood
     it has yet to be different,

All hunter's hunt for their dinner,
there are none who are righteous
     and all whom are born
          are sinners.

TA

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Streaks of Street Light


The warm dark air picked up the octopus tentacles
of her red hair and threw them willy-nilly
against her face
so that in the soft glow of the gauges
I watched from the corner of my eye as she wrestled
her own head into submission,
sugar cane fields in the passing night fading
into the distance,
crickets singing endless love songs to one another
tossing up wishes each time a shooting star left
a gash in the sky like
burning interstellar bridges,
the gun empty between us,
the miles endless ahead...

they said:
go over and meet her,
you'll feel cheated
if you never get her name.

TA

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Moony


Moony made it down to Mexico,
past wilted women in homemade cottons
     and men smoking spliffs through holes in their throats,
dogs died in ditches after a dissatisfied life on the open road,
when Dios calls the bitch mutt home
     the bitch mutt goes,
scores of crows flood the sky diving in droves
     nesting in blossoming teenagers' clothes,

Moony waddled through it all,
with balls of dope in his ass laughing madly
     at the insanity of a man squirming with illegal contraband,
his hands clammy under every shake,
his eyes shifty and his smile fake,
hauling poisoned freight nestled so very closely to his prostate,
a thin trail of blood slithers from his dilated ass lips
     like an infant crimson snake,

Moony makes his way to where jackals wait,
they welcome him into their den in blue berets
     and cocked AK's,
mustachioed men with dark skin
     and sullen face,
the last of the great Aztec race,
a man named Juan Castillo displays his place
     within their ranks,
points to a desecrated bathroom,
bids Moony make haste,
go spread his legs
     and lose the last of his civilized grace.

TA