............
.........The Poetry Of.
....................... Halle Linkhauser
.............
.............
.............
............. a weekend in the
........... mountains with the crackheads and the KKK
.............
.............
............. well so
............. the niggers
............. hit the springs
............. in their sharkskin suits
............. with their
............. aint-smoked-crack-in-three-years
............. strut and their
............. big women with their
............. ropey hair talkin bout
............. cooks chicken just like mama
............. and hasn't sucked no nigga's
............. dick for no five dollar rock
............. in two months now
............. while the Mill Billy Run boys
............. polish their guns on
............. their plaid flannels
............. spitting out teeth
............. grinning through gaps
............. talkin bout
............. coon season came
............. one day early this year
............. boys let's go
............. get us a live one
.............
..............
..............
..............
..............
.............. August 21, 1998 at 10:00 P.M.
...............
..............
.............. matt
.............. he's just
.............. fucked
..............
.............. corn-holed
.............. with bombcocks
.............. sent by Bin Laden
..............
.............. skinny islamic
.............. terrorist fuck
..............
.............. you better pray
.............. they don't find pieces
..............
.............. blown apart
..............
.............. head
..............
.............. the head
.............. that housed
.............. the damaged
.............. brain
..............
.............. we shared
.............. you gave us
..............
.............. your big
.............. destructive
.............. gift
..............
..............
..............
..............
..............
.............. what I fucking do for $8.98 an hour
..............
..............
.............. the planters outside the store
.............. had great expectations
.............. massive stone structures
..............
.............. used to hold red pansies
.............. got a deal from the nursery
.............. two doors down
..............
.............. so pansies it was
..............
.............. but no one watered them
.............. and they were dead
.............. a week later
..............
.............. every morning I eye
.............. those fuckers
.............. it is my job to clean them
..............
.............. two apple cores were left
.............. this morning
.............. along with some cigarette butts
.............. and four wads of green gum
..............
.............. I find old receipts
.............. half drunk Starbucks coffees
.............. with the cream gelatinous
.............. and stinky
..............
.............. once I found part of a gravestone
.............. white marble and some
.............. jack off teen wrote R.I.P.
.............. on it in marker
..............
.............. clever
..............
.............. but the worst by far
.............. are the
.............. shit-filled
.............. piss-filled
.............. snot-filled
.............. smelling-like-the worst-ass-you-ever-smelled
.............. rolled up
.............. baby diapers
.............. sporting pastel dinosaurs on
.............. covered-with-crap
.............. tape
..............
.............. I've found these more than once
..............
.............. those goddamn yuppie parents
.............. are something else
..............
.............. between them and those fucks
.............. from Pakistan
..............
.............. nobody has any class
.............. anymore
..............
..............
............
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