Musique concrètism

Published in Poetry New Zealand

I hear Chopmonger and I want to run
And pet everyone and their sister
Right on the head, right? Like I flip
On a side of Al Ear-Popper and need
To make sweet hate with the world
As it were in a manner of speaking,
I mean — am I the only man who wishes
To put a boot to the ass of sundry
Politicians after iPodding
The Hans Offensptiz Chorale's version
Of the Equus Quagga peace march?
Yes I am not, no. And to this day
I can't perceive Obadiah Obligato's
'Arachnology' without recalling
Scramming kindergarten to catch his gig
At Spiderland. From his deathbed
In the notorious Kelpie Hotel
My father asked that The Tel-Morpheme's
'Dissertator's Mash' be played
At his funereal bash. His lips
Were so near to my ears that I feared
My brain might pickle, so I agreed
Though . . . that tune brings out
The Aaron Burr in my soul, I mean
I hear that opening couplet:
                 Her fingernail's lunule
                 Spoke to me like a virgule
And I want to take my burp-gun
To your rooftop and go mango y mango.
But soon as his choice finished
I put on Sound Bite's 'Starch My Truss'
(the Yukky La-di-da remix)
And I wanted to rerouge my old man's cheeks —
Sincerely — I was in the mood
To climb a tall pine tree and lick the wind.

last updated Thursday, January 21, 2010 @ 6:13 AM