mmmccclxxii

stuck on a doormat
doing the door math
(who’s so welcome he
knocked it right down?)

here’s a few hank’rin’
words dot com for a day
spent hunkerin’ down low—
some door-downin’ hunk 

shows up at this so-called
chronic coffin all right-izm 

wrong-izm right? it’s a day so 

super & the pan dim lucky’s 

been done gone (or so mouths 

sez i hears), and you in a big-

heaved yell over a helluva

stretch of land, says H
OW many more can you
be here? and don’t just 

glare say the DAYS strung

out right down to the knock-
knock-knock in my ears
pult so into this door of 

you, plumb now till ya 

pound down its fleur de lis 

points to the pure-dee ground 

so who sits all prettily shuts
my lips and moves his
pouts out down to the
cliff to the other big end
of a suez canal where we
live we’re alive but we’re
on the wrong side of hell
stay alive says the curtain
as it goes up & up just as 

certain times coattails 

drown pine cones in cups 

i’m down to square down 

to all that’s a’wedded

right here, oh how m

uch more used knots
are to spare me the
glib ‘ready ribbed
everywhere becuz
when’s you gonna
cum? they all ask
every day and to
me little me when’s
the day? when’s
the day? well you
henny hen hens just
you wait you dears 

can’t ya see he’s a’comin’

he’s a’comin’ yes sir i’ve

been set real free as i told

you before he’s my hunny-

hunny-bee. that i do well

declare (a big ditto from

the dark) oh so please 

woncha please why yes 

if ya care will ya fly if

you could just this one
more july oh with two 

or three advil (or four)
til the devil’s own
june once or so
we’ll around
we’ll around
round the bend
in a diabetic lump
clump of pills in
our hands, poor
hands run the
stairs all the
way to the door
what a ham-
footed ham
holy hell holy
damn nah it’s
holy toledo and
we’ll boogie
til the birds
of the disco
do their rhyme
chill their chirp
shrill their trill
and who’ll care
what the hell when
the car squeaks around
all the way up the bluff
which upon lives a man
hear the car shimmy up
hear the door’s big kathunk
which is no car door no this
here thunk’s up a chunk up
there on that floor just a
like it’s at us as we’re down 

on all eight (that’s two sco

res of dunka-dunk dunk

dunka-dunk) and no less th

an it is and what’s more it 

is four.  yes a four that’ll

guess at the who or the
what (it’s absurdly a whom,

as you knew), say, what’s that 

kaboom down it fell what a dear 

that’s  the door says the man

what it is that he means 

that’s my man that’s my 

man what he’s made out of 

me? when that fist hissed the 

door whooshed and yes, 

it’s a hit that he made me 

my hitman he banged and 

it whumped to the floor!