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   l u c k y    s e v e n s

--- M I C H A E L   M A G E E


then the Norse canibales nursed theirs
like nosehairs caught in crosshairs
or tribes in crossfire
everyone pretended to be lost
generating their tails
ain't nobody livin'
in here but us amphibians

felt felt somewhere and not a swath to feel felt the hard frictionless pool table, got a feel for the pool the temperature skinny dipped the polar bear club crashed the bar ordered tattoos for their tits and shrunken nuts

squirreled away in May splinter for the winter enter the vendor in a faith healing contest and drought management course and free current lottery and free rent draft in your calendar

because of the old windows like old men whistling dixie from a cracked skull bone like Hamlet on a ham radio blowing through a box of oreos, peering at the flora in this shopworn story-o

you and I are confederate one and two are confederate rubber and glue are confederate needle and thread are confederate the quick and the dead are confederate two and one are confederate the rope and the gun are confederate

they sold us that conjunction gave us blinding conjunctivitis and then didn't invite us treated us like detritus like you treat your garden with pesticides, papaya or papyrus

north to south mountain to mouth played high low in the chasm they interpreted it as a sign like a welcome mat for the monkey on the vine, swinging low over the signifying chasm * like mallards, like melba toast we are dying on the bank like a bank shot you can't bank on like a tanker's tank of gas . thank you

when we finally struck oil it was just enough to cover us like James Dean in Giant we immediately wrote a minstrel show on the bald heads of our betters

visions of uber plumes danced in our fed-exed heads fried in the barrel scrapes w/ the leftover barcodes the estuary in the east was taken by Christ freaks who were taken with James Dean, of East of Eden

he'd welshed on a bet, gyped a JAP princess who nigger-lipped some pop, just like a WOP they couldn't stop talking stop talking stop talking, they couldn't stop talking like they swallowed a WASP I guess they'll die

I know an old lady who accentuated her possessives and fucked her ethnographer in all of us I know an old man he laced eggs with the rotten heart of all of us

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published in association with the |
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