The FAB&PP Poem of the Month for April, 2007

NOT A TYPO

because i listen to
        Monk
                  on the
subway (or Nick Cave)
and retreat into bebop
or other alternatives
to the free ad sheets
that populate the
faces fronts and
seat
       covers

am i any different
from the
             hard covered
opposites
               any
less interior

does my wrist
bleed black shellac
melted vinyl is
                      time
itself inscribed
transcribed
re-pulsed through
my head
              phones
 		 is there any difference
or are we washing
all in the same
great bucket
of protein and puss

not
everyone
               believes
in the sublime
but 'played twice'
appears inside
my head
              an
hallucination
of the mystic
as i roll
            on
through Beality
                        god
(interventionist
or not)
           not
withstanding
 
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