— A thru B —
to escape the perpetual torments inflicted upon it
the dybbuk-tongue seeks refuge in a garbled mouth… 

(A)
My chronic itch
may it bring health upon our navel

for small favors
w/ minor fortunes
& big doings––
THE REAL DEAL:
a-thenticty
I don’t give a hang about.
To all those happy-go-lucky people,

they should live!
What a few chews wldn’t do
after midnight
when the hostess serves
peanut hor d’ouvres.
As long as a lung
or liver hangs
on the nose
another disease made
easier to stomach
rash on my ass
made less to bare.
Maw to the ear might
serve me right
for a year & a Wednesday
a slice of gan eden.
Healthful as a body
can be (under the
circumstances.

Tho it shldn’t happen
to the worst of us
(cld be said about
any of us. Too smart to do it

ourselves

in spite of everything that
churns out wrong.
Culturally impudent finicky bagatelle.

Getting senile?
Find some absented-mind
ed peace already.
An alphabet for
alphabet
’s first language
jitters. & to all those
cobblers
walking barefoot
thru the streets
give them shoes!
Not the one & just
-born excuse
in over-dressed wandering.
Majority rules. Minority’s
a joke.
Really? That’s
how it goes?
That’s what they said.

(B)
Concealed in
bobby-yarns
inventing lift-off
praise
for rolls w/ holes. Burying
our names
fledged no easy feat.
“ Teamsters!”
they screamed
(the respectable
chews, “waggoneers,
“coachmen! dis-honorable
“faith-healer
“gossips
“drummed-up
“for a baron taboo “fornicated
“for the fun of it!”
“So don’t screw
“me around,” slashing out
the show-pup rebbe
spoke:
“You there, in a hurry
“standing on one leg
“over an egg:
“what are you, nuts?
“While white-cheese pancakes
“puff hot pride
“over bobby-yarn!”
(small things, pea
-nut holdovers,
the price of a hotel
room in the Catskills.
Still fond of
borsht botshvine
brunches
chronic stomach
aches made brave.

Originally published in White Wall Review 40 (2016)