Fried Elvis
If you’ve never been to Graceland
you should go eat some Tennessee
things & feel the world make its gut
sense.
Song of the Black Hole
You can almost see Vincent Price, black-robed,
hunched above the console of a jumbo organ
in the bowels of his creaky haunted manse
Motel Night Attendant
Out here on Route 38, I’ve learned the difference between noise and sound. Sound is familiar: the whirr and clank
Allen Ginsberg’s Dead
I know Allen Ginsberg’s dead,
And I want to write
A poem for him just like every-
Body else wants to do
Possible Reasons Why
The career purgatoried into a litany of left turns, almost-theres, and no-way-outs.
The reputation he counted on was outnumbered by the five stages of grief.
The fact of everything evolving into something that orbited a wound.