That boy on a pile of roadkill
lowers the fire, lifts up the
snare wire that almost wasted
him. That boy put up beside
the union hall. Is it me?
A fate I was really afraid of?
In Pennsauken back from shore
towns, a hundred men lean
like sunflowers outside the
hall. Can I still be in a
good way? Years later? I forgot
most everything of that morning,
and the Greek soccer game
plays in and out of static
at the barbershop, my cup connects me
to sweat drips on my belly, a belly like
an old man, the eggs fry,
and it's never finished. I won't say
what that person was, I can't
be so lightfilled this far
away from ocean air.
Hair, Hair, Scary Pony Hunter Huckster
You can choose to be wealthy there's no excuse
You can out of your free will just sell your vote
and call me mister just give me your money
take a chunk of it just get it out of your pocket
and let us be honest in fact let us be loaded
ask me something weasly no don't stand up
mister general four star no not do not stand
up for it or against it today instead choose to
pander be strong there is no such reason
no excuse to not choose to be wealthy
give me your money I will sell it for free
give me your pocket and I will burn mine
give me four stars and I will burn mine
give me your money and I will spend yours
give me your raw ground beef and I will eat yours
give me four stars again and I will be for
or against the thing of your choice and I
will be strong just give me your money give me
your money no excuses you can
call me lazy but do not call me rich
Fragments
It is the club, older brother, it is a chest
of only ice—all has been drunk—
when to travel in a nutshell and
the dark woman's hand heals a wan boy hero
------
Too much fucking
Too much fucking
Following in footsteps
------
Hey dimplechin
bring it here
make sure it's cold
invest in the
recruitment,
period—and
don't be so steep—
love me, love my town
------
I thought the cowboys
in question didn't really
do the electronic thing—
I mean if the telepathied
pitz across wires was
done gentleman-like, a soul-
less of a way offa the
beaten buckles ne'er you
mind old chum no one
gets trampled on in these
small-stage theories much
less rustlemen in the
prairie what we need is wood
------
Most of you don't need to cheat
inasmuch as you can name
the very woe—goldcusped so far—
the giggles at the parents
tale—And who are famous
then? Not us. This is
just a story you tell to
make you sound more country.
------
That sidekick can swing
by to ask the true
questions, the lead
can swivel their eyes,
crane them back
to say that one
paragraph of comic
unrelief, the right
of first refusal—
set sights lower as
the dip goes by
like suits guarded
in dry marks
practically—
------
unless there's something
about pirates I don't
know, or an
Aerialist other than
the Wauwaw sisters
-----
The second catastrophe song's
nevertheless landed.
------
Nobody knows the
rubble I've seen.
------
Australia? Wines?
Peekaboo, matey
------
Curb down the ceremony
before you fire up
that last name wrap;
It's all side mountaintop
from here. Teevee waits
for no one, big Dave.
------
Once again—in place
with Carole King—
semihearing it.
Once again some
other's voice. I know
not whose.
-------
Settle down, bootstraps—
never-can-tell, meets
you up in the tale
of tapes—divisions up
relations zap possible
------
all the sudden
anyways
my plans unbroken
zero-respect—
just read the scores
for soup—looks
good on you, though
-------
Hardly he knew!
hardly tall strup—
no one can see me!
Try me on sport!
Fuck you!
-------
Wrap it up, Mr. Connect
Four-wood shop fames
Drink a sip before
you name-check the Lord
future-safe ole me.
Silo-bound ole me.
field-of-view,
Let God's love ruin
your mother's ass.
------
Enough he cries
and every other
person dresses like
an off-duty athlete
------
I see a
special
I want a
special
-------
Oh self,
_________ .
------
Chinese people
always—
------
effigize—?
------
Dana, don't
hate me!!
underneath
she the
------
leper's mercy
spiderboy—
------
gentlemen—
knock knocks
------
lime-reck
------
something works
colon—I'm used
to it that way—
don't double-guess
or bring 'em back—
the coterie—
another not new
scanner up my wazoo—
use this song as
secret cowboy
weapons—
Daniel Nester is the author of God Save My Queen (Soft Skull Press, 2003) and God Save My Queen II (2004). His creative work has appeared most recently in jubilat, parakeet, and Spoon River Poetry Review, and Forklift, Ohio. He also writes for Poets & Writers, Time Out New York, and Bookslut. He publishes and edits the online journal Unpleasant Event Schedule and is Assistant Web Editor for Sestinas for McSweeney's. He is an assistant professor of English at The College of Saint Rose in Albany, NY.
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