songanddancegirl

shake rattle und roll

i just can’t seem to shake it  no matter how

hard i try  maybe i should stop trying?

let it all

sink in  and down  and out

roll with it

fer chrissakes

 

memory-lobotomy anyone?

 

the tall smokestack  reminiscent of ?

why does an urban hospital

have a smokestack anyway?

 

what are

they

burning?

  

souls of the operated

and

the sainted ones

who

didn’t make it

those jagged telltale scars

on heads  ✖️☠️✖️

i tried to look away

hey

i just can’t seem to shake it

3 am  stretcher races

the ballet

to get you onboard

so many lines

attached to you  who

has been

fished out of your life

 

now a manfish

on a line

my mother is a fish 

says Vardaman Bundren

as his mama lay dying

(William Faulkner 1930)

 

a tall east-europe man

with slittyeyes

heave-hos

the sheets

and lifts you

off the stretcher

 

you rise

like

Jesus The Magician

we race to bowels

of the hospital

where resides

the MRI  monster

 

there an ancient

grandmother

slackjaw +police

is naked

sometimes

screaming

 

don’t look

don’t look

 i tell you

 

i just can’t seem to shake it

 

..i don’t know why memory won’t go away

it hangs like a bloodsucking leech out of

the bottoms..

(Frank Stanford  Battlefield  1978)

do i have the blues?

my life smells

like

the blues

reads

like

a broadway play

bleeds

like

a new tattoo

adulthood is not

for everyone

hoodwinked+hoodoo

hood of Reap

comin fer yous

 

STOP TIME!

(Frank Stanford)

13 minutes

pre-pulling the trigger)

 

puer extraordinaire

his ticker full of bullet holes

adulthood an imposition

 

childhood dies on a clock

 

longest moments

of my recent life

watching my

old mother

watch the clock

 as she lay dying

the clock ticking

toward my departure

leaving her alone

to contemplate

the moment

I’d return

 

YOU’RE LATE!

 

 fuck  why can’t I seem to shake it?

__

 

Summer 2026  ..for the risen..

shoot the messenger

..the truth when you finally chase it down

is almost always far worse than your darkest

visions and fears..Hunter S. Thompson

was i born a Cassandra or was I groomed?

that sounds semi-creepy  except that yes

i was groomed  in the trenches of my family

an exhuberant/aberrant  family of origin  that’s

what we called it in therapist school  +of course

all  the rap ists   born Cassandras

truthysoothsayers  one+all  reviled too  if  they

don’t like your jibjab  awful close  to the bone

we hone truth  exposé of veins  of the nittygritty

under the flap  where grieflovehaterageliesflies

+rotting brisket remain   like in a draincap

 

for you novice therapists  there is a flap  zippered

+camouflage  in women: under the left breast  or

its remains

in men: it resides on the side the rib was taken from

Adam  to create Eve  or was it Eve’s rib that made Adam?

 ..behind every great woman..

prick me + i bleed  into your flap  all over you +the

floor  truth is a messy business  +highly theoretical

to some

 

there are degrees:

she is the only woman i ever loved 

i jilted the one  before her  a plump-pudding

of a deli-queen  her father owned Moishes 

 

i never had sexual relations with that woman

finger wagging pencildickstabbing liar  poor moni

 

true confessions

i love money

+beauty

+the zigzag

9 inch scar

on your leg   spinal fluid refill

 

is this true jew?       (who you calling a jew?)

true blue

 

they cannot

undo

unscrew

unsee

unsew

you back

together

 

Aprill  

they’re going

to cut me

from stem to stern

 

word

__

..i love all of your jagged scars  (all 276 of them across 4 bodies)

they are more beautiful than once pristine skin  any day of the week

Frankenstein has nothing on yous..

__

Summer 2026

..ok enough with the truth already

hands up if it has set you free..

  

 

 

what is the shape of absence?

bubba’s chicken pluckers

white ashes with bits of martybone

mother’s yellow cats-eyed sunglasses

in New Orleans after Katrina coffins floated out of

shallow graves  the bodies freed  some danced the

bamboula   some continued on to Zion

maybe that will happen here  up on Bathurst St.

where in your coffin i placed the above noted items

somehow in my shock i forgot i’d never see them again

or you

i will dust you off dear  you’re probably a bit damp too

and hungry  don’t ask  we’ll go for lobster  the world now

less motherless  + me sporting your mouldering yellow

sunglasses  Welcome Home  Mummybird!

__

Spring 2026   ..how ’bout watering the goddamn grass at the cemetery?..

 

 

what is the scent of absence?

Paris by Yves Saint Laurent

Paco Rabanne

Toe Jam Football

falling stars streaking thru the sky  in daylight? !

asteroids? comets? the end of days? apocalyptic

crazed dreamscape  long streaks of light  like

lysergic trails  seen at 14  frog blotter in burbs

walking home at dawn  teen warrior minted  in

david fuchs bedroom  long haired freaky people

need not apply

morning after the dreamy light shower  newsflash

daytime meteors !  the Arietids peaking  like me?  50

was the ultimate  still robust-vibrant  a rock n rollin bitch

for you   now penultimate    powers simmering   in the

crucible of ape

 

stew of old jew

eye of newt

flowerpower interruptus

don’t despair rebirths do happen  right up to the last

second  +afterward too  martino a brand new babe

with a brand new bladder  not the frankenstein one

from the florida cancerward  father married!  looking

dapper  in a wedding suit

mother in capris  cardi  +cig  ohhh so Audrey

luminescent-incandescent  +waving   Hi Mum!

swoooosh   flying past   bumps my head   now

windshadow💥streakinglight

i’m slowly getting used to being here without you     (is that even possible?)

you can’t imagine how different it is  how it feels

from 30,000 ft   above our city   the first time

returning after you died  so EMPTY   now 4 yrs

later  the strangeness commonplace  ingrained

a motherstain

..the work of grief is to face the reality of the absence..

__

Spring 2026  ..you want more..

 

 

 

 

 

 

the motherlode of marian apparitions

i watched her coiffure  the toilet paper ceremony

mahogany skin  burnt cinder of a woman  clothes

meticulously placed on fence  suitcase on the brown

sodden ground  soggy rivulets  sacred substances

monsoon rains for days  she remains encrusted

muddy+golddust  like Frida K.  when she lay under

the bus   crucifixion thru pelvis   future gangrene

waiting in the wings   27 doves crushed  along with

Frida’s right leg

golddust woman in park finishes her coiffure  places

a checkered jacket over her head  sleep of the near

dead  for 3 hours  as poet in silver pants + Jackie O

tee  tries to give her some dignity  by not watching

someone’s  motherdaughtersister  hobbled

 

but is that even the case?

 

she is always smiling  + has a kind of  flotsam-freedom

hey  i don’t need your dignity handouts   comfort queen 

but wait!     she levitates

are those doves?

is that a leg?

is this marian?

Frida?

Frida?

Freda?

__

Spring 2026  ..mother sighting trinity bellwoods park today..🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

 

 

THE BIG PINK🌸🌸🌸

..all your sorrows have been wasted on you

if you have not learned how to be wretched..

Seneca

 

who among you is not tired of wretched? what would

i be without my grief  my cancer non-interruptus speak

my failures  marriages  quagmires of human stain  stink

my pink?  we don’t wear pink!  my old mother was want

to shriek

 

so it was blues all the way  gloaming hues of periwinkle

lilac-mauve  cobalt  almost descending back into cancer

cobalt-60 gamma-rays  turn hulk-like tumours  into dustmite

 

NO!  WAIT  YOU HAVE  ALMOST  ESCAPED

there are a mere 3 weeks when pink is  BIG + fragrant  later a

rotting pinkstink in local park  but for now  lush heavy blossoms

of every demeanour cling  in fragile moments  leading up to corruptus

so why not revel in what you still have time to be?

a washboard player  like Chaz

oldest point guard in the wnba

alien abductee (can u be the same thing twice?)

raving extrovert (a fate worse than death)

uh oh here comes the Reap  +a bird has just shat on me

but seriously  the end of spring pink  heralds the autumn winds

in between  why not make something new of wretched?  old sinew

black lung  spirit sprung  from 56 cm of yellow snow   go ahead

GLOW  GLISTEN    RESIST   

 

i may never go back to being death’s barker

fuckthereap!

..all who are 

faithful

follow me..  

(Mordecai 475 BCE  The Book Of Esther Ape  2026 AD)

__

Spring 2026 ..this is a happy poem..can you dig it?..

haint magnet

red tee   gnarly +ogle   ogre with red wine bottle  watches me

mouth dripping +unrequite  as i write  i use Frank Stanford’s

The Light The Dead Can See  to prop up a sore butt-cheek   burst

bursa bleeds   nothing hurt  in New Orleans  walked miles  saw 11

bands   sucked the craw-head jelly    spit+repeat

 

now i have a haint  so heavy  heavier than my big brother  who is 80

today  +dead   since 2018   bladder bled for months  the toilet filled

with blood ape  but i pretended not to see  metastatic denial morphosis

trouble knew where to find him    always did

 

so this haint i brung home with me  lived at the Camellia Grill  he

served up fries  a coffee shake +the ecstasy of living the dream  for

$1,000.00 a day  USD   i caught him mid-fantasy  looking at me  like

i was the risen shining

our eyes met  +now he weighs heavily on my chest   lung eviscerate

+sexual innuendo  my bed creaks rhythmically  hump hump  bump 💥

did i mention  he is heavy?   but not my bro   he ain’t heavy    now

light-years away

suffering beggars  decency  dignity  you grow emaciate  you would

do anything   love a leper  beat a dog  drive to Miami +ice the cancer

doctor who committed  motherfuckery  on your bro’s 72 yr. old bladder

okay enough self-flagellate!  fer chrissakes  re-wind  this tape

__

Spring 2026  ..i tried to bring you home to your mama..in a giant green suitcase..

O the Mississippi Delta shinin like the National Geetar🎸🎸

turbulence at 30,000 ft. above the formerly free U.S. of A.

the prez of the free world says he’s Jesus  oh wait  no!  a

gynecologist  i’m no rapist  or pedarast  he spits at Nora

on 60 minutes  Nora doesn’t flinch  perhaps he doth protest

too much?

 

about to land in New Orleans  13 yrs since i wandered the

Vieux Carré  since then apocalyptic leanings  tarot card

psychopomp prophesied the upsidedown Tower  i have

never  touched the cards since

life as i knew it blown to smithereens  fuck those handpainted cards!

from a friend who asked me to leave husband #3  for her fuckeye déshabillé

56 now 69  new life  new body  newly orphaned  de-brothered  cancer non

interruptus  pandemic refugee  (everybody’s got to fight to be free)   still

don’t inhale deeply in a crowd

on the way to the airport the limo driver’s breath stank of old chickpeas

wet dog garlic+denture  fuck me  i venture outta my comfort zone  my bed

my husband’s aura  scent of buffalo  he will never put down his canoe  come

plague  come the end of days  come chordoma redux  fearless maniacal viking

more at home on the range  great plains  27 staples to the upper leg  why?

why not?  they even messed with his eustachian tube  now when i speak

he hears birdsong +ancient oracle  beelzebub growls +farts  we’re coming

for you  we’re coming for you   back away  from the ranger  there’s no gun

to my head  motherfuckers   he says

 

but there is one to mine

oh  and a hellhound too

 

or is there?

__

Spring 2026 ..but i reckon i got to light out for the territory ahead of the rest, because

Aunt Sally  she’s going to adopt me and sivilize me, and i can’t stand it…i been there

before..   (Huck Finn & Ranger Cam.. indomitable vagabonds..)

 

i don’t know why i killed the room fly 🪰

with such violence  for one so beatific  so specific  so crucifixion

of late  then a spider  crabsized  crunched  not splat  southern gothic

serial killer  tale spinner  sputterer  wordsaladsurgery  OK!  enough

smartquip  making me nauseous  go on  shove yer scat-tered rhyme

voodoobitch

i have seen 11 shows  tasted Cyril Neville’s sweat  all salty+sazerac

i have seen the desecrate homeless  of dixieland   even the trees in

New Orleans are bruised +gnarl   twisted branches +rictus   this

morning  on my final day  i laid hands on Miss Emma  the waitress

at Desire   300 Bourbon St.  Vieux Carré

66  been there 40 yrs   last night she danced the bamboula with her

months dead husband  she told me how troubled her mind is  Emma

said: girl you gotta start livin again  who knows  maybe you die first!

with that  the cross fell away  i threw down my crutches  been servicin me

since 3   don’t touch my mother  or i’ll kill you   big bro screamed

hey  these are your crutches  not mine

your cancer  not mine  your raging bull

not mine   your life  not mine

as i am your ball+chain

so you  are  were mine

__

Spring 2026 ..laid some burdens down..in Dixie..April-May 2026 ✚☠️✚

 

 

my father was a Jewish bohemian

my mother too  model  racehorse trainer  +

salesman extraordinaire  one grandsonnyboy

inherited father’s riz  kid could sell a fish a bicycle

 

but back to the bohemians

 

how do i even begin to capture their beauty

their élan vital  how did they end up in a suburban

backsplit with 4 kids 4 giant dogs 1 rabbit 2 filthy

turtles 8 horses + 1 goat who developed an infatuation

with a brother   he remains quite goat centric

 

HOW?

 

my father’s tweed jackets  his cowboy boots  +reefer

his jazz + his blues  mother’s silk gowns chignon cigs

oh  + her blues too  life is not a read thru  messy 1950’s

marriage   slowsuck of aging

 

once we left the backdoor open  bears  snarling hogs

+a lion rampaged  for years  yet there were worse things

they did not need an open door  or invitation  to enter

 

our house still stands

so too

the laughter

the love

the protection  when were you ever so protected?

there is a house in Bathurst Manor  they call the Rising Sun

*(I can’t possibly rip off Eric Burden or can I?) the sun rose+set

on that house  a beacon to which I return again +again +again

I write this poem on the front porch  where I once dropped a large

mastiff puppy  named Auggie

 

I’d tripped down the stairs  in red clogs  a new bride  at 19

inside  Frances+Lee  in the livingroom  on turquoise sectional

making-out  laughing  sharing a cig  Basie wafts  Aprill in Paris

this is eternity 

one

more

once

 

forever

__

*(..House of the Rising Sun has no known authours..go ahead google it!)

April 2026  ..no birth no death..the eternal return..