songanddancegirl

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..

dragonfly on a chain

on Sunday u cried when a girl named Chains

(it’s really Steph..but i like Chains..said she)

Chains with a booth in the park  told you her

summer project is travelling coast to coast

sewing buttons+tears  i sew tears  anything

+everything  torn  bring me  your patches  

your sweaters  your tumours  

your

unwashed

masses

but Chains  can u sew me back together? one fucked

scarecrow  seen things better not to tell  now every

year  chattel  to the big cancer buildings  where shards

of me cling to parked cars  +everyone greets me with

the warmest of hellos  hey  you don’t have to kill the

fucking dragonfly in order to  breakthechains

now do you      motherfuckers

or maybe u do..?

__

Spring 2026 ..death he say he give you credit..better not sign..

Frank Stanford  1976  

at 26  

3 years until

3 bullets to the heart 

lord of the flies

with the spirits of the boy poets flitting around me

stanford

radiguet

renard

atkins   (oh they were poetic alright!)

commes des garçon   i muse on the unspoiled land

that was my former life  that strange country of 

childhood.. like a dragonfly on a dog chain..

(Frank Stanford 1976)  

a group of unwashed boys  blubbery slackjaw

+unsmart  1 rotund sweetmeat told a cousin

he named his dog after me

another sat on the hill across from our house

everysingleday   waiting for me to emerge  +

somehow guide him away from the cement

truck  that would squash him   one day

gnarly outpost of Jewish quarter  circa 1957

holocaust skeletons  found row-house shelter

their screams echo under suburban moon

most nights   unstill

you  this tiny speck of consciousness  controlled

by the vast unconscious of parents+ancient history

the rednecked rabbi with 12 kids a couple blocks

from your street  so tell me  what remains of your

own  infinitesimal?  

__

..it is generally customary to avoid grieving

on Jewish holidays..as they are times of joy..

(this idiocy on the website of my parent’s

gravesite  !!  unlock the gates dumbkopfs

grieving is a sign of the sacred love for one’s

ancestors..i will grieve wheneverthefuck

i please..)

Spring 2026 ..let my people go..

simpler times

The Manor Ghetto

circa 1972

meet u on the dark side of the moon

if you watched the lift-off of Artemis II today  you will have

seen the lawn chair crowd lolling about  drinking shasta

sucking on chilidogs  at least they were not watching the

portable electric chair spectacles in days of yore

Mississippi Delta until 1994   children would be present   the

streetlights would dim   Gruesome Gertie  all a crackle + hum

she often failed to deliver enough voltage  i will leave y’all to use

your imaginations here

in childhood i had wanted to be an astronaut  an old brother recently

said: there’s still hope Ape!  John Glenn was older than you on his last

mission   i actually witnessed  a shuttle launch  the one that exploded

just after lift-off    there were several astronauts on board

one with a daughter watching   Christa McAuliffe   a young teacher

fulfilling her dream   my mother is in space too  apparently she will

never return

__

Spring 2026

..the lunatic is  in the hall  in the White House..hey we the people ..leave that moon alone..

the moon wades a creek
Like an albino with a blade
Fixed to a stick.

Now the moon was a fifty-cent piece
It was a belly I wanted to cut open

the moon in the woods flashing
Like a girl running in her panties.

(Lunar Phases  Frank Stanford  Poet  Mississippi Delta 1948-1978)

free falling

the fortunate fall? now don’t get all biblical about your

trip-up  sister  so you missed a stair  bigfuckingdeal  so

you bounced like a 69 yr old: rubbery-bones  gristle +squirt  

a ton of ancient jew bricks  oldlady rumpled bruised putrifacto

gobsmacked   too late  yer in it   animal-flailing inside   oh

the horror  caught  trapped  now gnaw yer leg off old sport!

but no  you the ninja-meditator  gladiator  in mindful ecstasy

you realize that you have exactly three seconds  to reclaim your

dignity    dig it?

shitstreaks

mitre cracks

you sit a bit

choose not to cry    (for me  Argentina)

breathe deep the scents

of terror  +humiliate

loss of control  of limbs

crepey skin  triple-chin

flaccid bottleneck

rattle+hum    ok i’ll stop

instead you shove  a jagged bone-fragment  back into its socket

straighten up  un-gimp  a once magnificent renaissance foot  now

bunioned  +freakishly bent  you rise up  fly high above your mouldy

yellow house

things get really small  especially your husband  who is portly

+bakedgood   he promised you a second moon   the stars!  ✨

when all you really wanted    was his money

__

Spring Exinox in 2 days  …bye bye winter bye bye

..show me the money..

eyes wide shut

did you read about the Extremely Large Telescope in the news today?

(it’s really called that!) sits on a Chilean mountain top  capable of gathering

100 million times more light than the human eye  took 15 yrs to build  cost

2 billion bucks   Expensive Avoidance Mechanism  for humans too terrified

to look inside

recently i did just that  first stop a forest of chia seeds  an old bro + i  took

the Chia Challenge  he blew up like the Pillsbury doughboy  while i  like the

Goodyear blimp  we nearly died from knife like stabs  to the spastic colon

both spastic from an early age   he more so

but i must describe the smells wafting:

old brisket

rotting King Crab

brainstem putrifacto

afterbirth

foreskin    (don’t ask)

then quite close to the heart  the soul’s longings:

freedom

peace

a pink Fiat 500    (feel free to send me one from Amazon)

mother

father                      (hey your dead reside inside!  duh)

Big Bro Martino

your fave dead poet  who crooks a finger    Come here girl ..    

he is covered in caked-blood + leeches  suicided at 29

i’ll give you cosmic orgasm!  (perhaps TMI?)  i think you can see

genteel reader  why most  DO NOT  look inward  EVER   therapy likely

the devil’s work    therapist the devil’s concubine

__

Winter 2026  ..it’s been a lonnnnng winter..

who by slow decay? who by her own hand?

the drama of suicide  do they all have that crazed look in their eyes?

i mean it’s pretty brazen  no?

Anna Karenina

Virginia Woolf

Frankie Stanford

Jules Renard’s mother (jumped into a well)+father (shotgun to belly)

Candy

David’s bro off a tall building  spitting image of Jesus

Jeff G from high school

Elliot A  ditto

Anne Sexton

Marilyn

Cobain

Rothko

Plath with a new born+3yr old in bedrooms   sleeping

Icarus flew  too   Nathan Schwarz Salant  my Jungian mentor said: there is

no such thing as attempted suicide  attempts are attempts  period   but what

about Anna Karenina  Nathan?  she changed her mind as the train was upon her

there is no hiding from a train  Aprill

how about the lemmings throwing themselves off of cliffs? is that even true?

Hitler+Braun do theirs count?  more cowardice + escape   so not tortured

+ raped

hari kari

hari krishna

hari hari

no one can know  but definitely brazen    yes

__

Death is no artist..  

Jules Renard  The Journal  1909

__

Winter 2026  ..the sun will come out tomorrow.. bet your bottom dollar..