My Name Here

It was kind of a fall
But more like Jonah
Tossed as javelin
Over steel joust
Of a battleship’s bow-
sprit

It was kind of a fall
I crashed as one bolt
Of plutonium
Giving birth to a sea

Wide drum pit
Where I would beat
The dropped-D tune
Of my own purple heart

My brother Michael
Had frontrow seats
For which his eyes
Developed nose-

bleed

His blood drips
On the torn flyleaf
Of a book published
Ten thousand and ten

Centuries after the fall month
He thought I was all over–
The years stack up
So does his anger:
A leaning tower of fuck

As no matter who might have
Been hired to paint and so
Frame me as Cain, the cracks
Begin to chip and (well, as mas-
cara rubs off) unveil me for Abel

II

More than able
The world slaps
The alarmclock
Back to snooze
And, Hark!–
Willingly fades
Into dementia

There’s too many dots
That they don’t want
To connect leading
To the self-same spot
Of ‘Oh No!’

III

‘Hohoho & Merry Da Da Da’

The outstretched arms of the Swan
Have come to bankrupt the poor
The poor have no legs to stand on
Crawling on all fours … .

IV

A strange doomed effort to piss
On the wound-up toys
Of his dream
To be exactly what?

Yes. He’s still sleepwalking
In and out of Future’s past,
Which is a closet, reciting
Something close to Hamlet:

“Though this be madness,
yet there [be] method [man]”
Before breaking into a brief contumacious 9th inning fit

of (well) Duetch:
ein Zaungast

V

The chair is sad and has read
All the books
Is both start and finish
For how Wittgenstein
Labored through the world

VI

The boomerang packs its lunch
And sets off for where it will end
Back up

…