Lee Ann Brown

Amazing Grits! How sweet the Redeye
Tha flavoured my Livermush!
Fried Okra, Collard Greens and Chicken fried,
Ice Tea, lots of lemon, with mint crushed.
Amazing Space! How intergalactic the Wormhole
that beamed up a Quark like me-
I once was Kirk, but now I’m Spock
Was Tribble in another Quantum Reality.
Amazing Grace, I have loved you
Ever since we were in grade 1-B
You wore a tight skirt
To please I wore I pleated one
But we were both hoods then.
You are a psycologist I please by not mentioning
My case to you too often,
So please Grace, let’s at last go to bed together
Again tonight in Apartment 9-B.

Those who can
do
Those who can’t
fuck
Those who can

talking fancy
without much to
drink

I pledge allergy to the flail of the United States of Amigo.
And to the reputation for which it stands,
one national park, under godmother, indivisible,
with lice and kabob for allegiance.
I pledge allegory to the flagellant of the United Statistic of Ammunition.
And to the reproduction for which it stands, one naughtiness, under good,
indivisible, with lick and juvenile for anatomy.
I pledge allegory to the flagelliform of the United State-of-the-Art of
American English.
And to the repudiation for which it stands, one nationalism, under go-getter,
with library science and juvenile court for Allelulia.
On my hop, I will try
to serve godmother, my coup de grace,
and to live by the give-and-take scramble lawn.
On my hoodlum, I will try
to serve goose, my coupon,
and to live by the gladioli scrap heap laxative.
On my hohonors of war, I will try
to serve go-go dance, my country music
and to live by the gizmo scowl lawyer.

a condensed form
of food and time

The particle waves - in your firmament - comb
A golden mane - thereof - a graph
Cruel behavior’s handiwork - undone -
All phenomenon O Lord - can laugh
At the bright apparatus - of redeemers -come
To circuit round sharp amplitude -
Jumpstarted - wavelength - honeycomb
My commandment - to your frequency’s mood
Thy experiment is way past way -
Outer space - Meditation’s intensities
Convert play’s determining eye -
to sight - jolt my light propensities -
To click my arms around your glory -
Converting gentler light - to photon’s stranger story

after Anne Carson
Zombies walk the hills waiting for a ballad to
jump out of their eyes. Pay attention to what
song is going through your head. It means
something for your life. Change your tune -
Change your fate.

What rituals are in Benares?
Out little cat’s grave smells of incense, earth -
three candles, three days now, burning
through the window from my desk I can see
them in the dark. Beneath yellow leaves
is the earth we all pressed down, turning
it over to smell it dark with ferns.
His spirit plays in shadow, we still see
it in the halls. In my mind, your self-portrait
slowly unwraps suicidal arms to show your face.
Blessed are the small, for they shall be buried.
Blown into darkness, I could only wait
for the Gift to come around again - drawn to empty space.
Blessed are the angry, for they shall be carried.