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NEW POEMS

by

Jim Behrle



Discothèque

Virgins *in extremis* and in disgrace

     headed for the top of the World,
          Wherever that is

We've finally hit All the capitols and
          we're Voting Republican as
          we cruise their bars

disguised, misguided Virgins, in search
          of X or anythin
          X-like

We just can't wait to fuck our young
          to fuck them Up

What in the Hell? is an action channel
               anyway
          by secret toxic
          clean-ups as we blow town
a poet deciding whether to finish this
          Line or to instead convulse

     Soon even the president will
          dress like a hooker, which
               Would work wonders
kids jerking other kids off to
          overrated Singles they'll disavow

     and if Lucky
     enough to be destroyed: candles
               cum Closure at dusk

pass that wispy lit rebellion, twisted into
          fattie

Get on with it, steady
     into half-numb pornographies

Before wardens      realize


Our Nation's Over/Under

Let's find New directions in which
     to point guns and Blow glass

wrists that are for slashing and
               Stitching together

     At best we remain jinxed on our
               Insides, a
               truly frightened flock

Marketplaces replaced by ovals of
          Spent gunpowder or
          skies

turn it up! the faint churning in Our
nerves' bones

if you are further awash in doubt and have
          Yet to suffer

You too can be a Prisoner crossed with

A sinner, welcome aboard

highways where there should be Dead

               fish and Factories

Sugar and penicillin hits push Us to Brinks

That soul is lying and sweating like
          a Liar

     along astral planes and boardwalks
It's in out power to either asphyxiate
     or be Used like spoons

All sharp charms have been removed
          left only with earrings

this ground's frozen, maybe
          fall forward, Brace

               for siege


Stand by Your Logo

Beneath the cap of the Enemy,
                    flirting with Freckled Danger

          we're umbrellas, not people, pretending
          to Be Animals, imagining showers

in Disregard of the fabulous advice
                    of Street psychics

               We forgive lovers and Ask for more
                              more more

Elsewhere beneath Panting and
                                        trips to the Head

Panels are being Created

To fill the vast Need

for Round About answers

               At a time like Now

And in deserted amusement parks
                    clowns are plotting their next
                         squeaky moves

It is Especially disquieting tonite
                         to see all of you

                         calmly melting
Beneath these ever-hostile pines

Back to safety and the dance
                         a fiercely competitive
                         rumba that will

Definitely leave us all Behind

Beneath 8-balls and wet rocks

Light is being scurried from

And fevers forgotten for Good







ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jim Behrle's latest chapbook is Recent Sonic News (Please evict us). He edits Can we have our ball back? He also serves as roving poet for WBUR's syndicated public radio noontime newsmagazine Here & Now. Behrle is alternately heartbroken and stoned in Brookline, Massachusetts.




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