Po-poetry<\/strong><\/p>\n

I thought I was out
\nof poems and sat down
\nin Dewey’s with a cup
\nof ivory mocha to
\ncontemplate how to break
\nit to my co-authors<\/p>\n

when a cop came in
\npointed at the ceramic
\nelephant tip jar
\nand said, “I told you
\nyou need to get a pig.
\nI’ll even give you double
\ntips if you put a sign
\non it that says
\nFeed the Pig.”<\/p>\n

We laughed and he said, “Hey
\nI do all the stereotypical
\nthings police officers do.
\nI even eat donuts.”
\nThen he took his coffee
\nand walked out giving
\nus a final exhortation:
\n“Maybe you can
\nfind a pig on eBay.”<\/p>\n

I grunted
\npleased
\nand there
\nwas poetry.<\/p>\n

~ Jesus Crisis<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jail & the General Store
\nLos Angeles, California<\/strong><\/p>\n

Of scratch, the waiting still minstrels,
\nthe yellow faced white faced black red blues.<\/p>\n

Much nothing like China on an open, open road: kissing.
\nMuch nothing like one cat\u2014a tabby tom w\/lick\u2014
\nplaying the music of rings w\/o fingers on the face…
\nplaying w\/o strangers or children of death halving the morrow.<\/p>\n

One cat, man, a tabby tom walking on legs of the moon:
\nopen at the legs\u2014belly up & cut open\u2014hitching on the side of the road.
\nA tabby tom too hip in the upbeat lip of these angle-beaded quipsters
\nwe call jazz to give a damn about nothing that breathes into bronze.<\/p>\n

The nothing that is; the nothing that will always be empty.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s Dixieland on down to the backbone of your shoe.
\nIt\u2019s Dixieland & the horns expound a mischievous syncopation.
\nIt\u2019s Dixieland waiting to untie the knots.
\nLet the all be got until you\u2019re had by the blue horn.<\/p>\n

One cat, man, & the hat is on your godhead.
\nOne head, man, & your sandal\u2019s empty
\ncause nothing manifests on cue when beatitude is missing you\u2014
\nor always to be remembering beat is out w\/the personal trash.<\/p>\n

One bowler shy of thin, one all, one over, again,
\ncountering the argument, eating the question, testing what matters.<\/p>\n

~ Adam Brodsky<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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