Win On Diagonals

I sure as hell did.

Happy New Years to one and all from the armada of Jagglenods here in diagonal county

Rain X’s Husband’s Life in Mobile Prison
By: Domenic Maltempi 12-14-10
(For M)

From the ribbon of a Japanese prison
Two droplets debated the futility of an abstraction gussied up in temporary beauty

Droplet 1: “What the hell else—-is there?

Droplet 2: There is god spitting seeds at bad likenesses of himself in some broken record parlor—if you believe in broken record parlors
There is the loud joy in a sprinting child—full—and weightless— insuperable—
unstinting love recycling itself in an elliptical orbit around the interstices of her fingers
She will not scream pass the rented house of a recently broken man
Handsome—washed –gray-blue punches of not knowing how to embrace failure
hardening a suppleness of spirit that always pushed the photographs of reveling death out of way –
most noises make him scream
cereal crunch—telephone demand respirations
Windows closed—garroted with exhaustion of more than his body

There is nothing she is running to
She is running for everything
and November is just a month looking for a few days to share a drink with

Droplet 2’s wife was Rain X
Her spray nozzle was metallic grey, and she believed the love baby of Hormulus
Who lived inside the newly replaced wiper blades of Princes who had not been seen since birth
Could not be propitiated with boiler-plate summoning
—ebullient adoration in need of under-carriage cleaning a day later

They subscribed to Newsweek

Things were easier then
Waxy aureate doubt made a wonderful mess in your fingers
Fingers that needed vacations from rehearsing their servitude
Clouds counted backwards for you as you learned to master
not to see
every squalid thing
Wrapped in a surplus gagger’s sack of possibility
Bird baths cleaned the brains of our best birds
Shinto nightlife Shinto Nightlife
‘ existed for a wet mouthed dawn to gently complain about

As gently as these droplets complained now
Carried away—to another time
Under the arm of some remotely austere beauty
Looking for the Emperor’s piano player