'One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star'- Nietzsche
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By John Kendall Hawkins

#1: Dancing on Shakespeare’s Tomb
jigging the nave north wall: a dance of death
Was Shakesphere homotextual? O!
Warburg Pincus TurnItIn!™ Kiss ‘n Tell spin my bottle
Ring them bells for all of those who are Left
smoked the out back bones beached white Mozart’s debtor fingers
like little Ozzie Freedman, his sin agog
eschewed (gesundheit) the safety net, a monologue
early years later chains saw choked and throttled O lies! lies! lies!
Lon Chaney returns the hunch back the circus bowl of lemon scents
my knave (add sage) Were cranky Ross and stern Guildy gay?
Angels whom no obscenity summons?
My wife’s rage Dr. Phibes the labyrinthine pipes play
dance me O Son god little buddha Mammon
Who shot the sheikspheres out out the brief canon?

#2: Teaching in Port Moresby
preaching the gospiels Marley strum and drum drum prophets
Profits the lost, the found, the O ring them bagatelles!
Sunday sails past rascal-filled banana boats mudmen smile
chain smoking cargo cult girls with Maybelline eyes
flotsam boggy mangos riffed rafts all washed up ashore
all birded up with fetters beating singsing logs singing
I toke the Hairyclit rivers of my demise
mixed Moresby doubles razor Demons, wired fences betelnut juiced
O where the streets have no names O gilded age! Sing papaya
doppelgangsters chainsmoke barramundi fires
the offstage world is clasps its knees weeps polluted Lethe
my world is poetry emotion mackerel and salmon smack me blue
jammin’
the rich kid’s back row snicker, O, spells trouble
#3: Miles Davis on Her i-Phone
Sometimes she finds my crazy, well
she skips stones @ the middle path which parts the sea
I’m black alright: they’ll never let me forget it
Saxobongs smokin’ jays scratching out the fever bone
O daughter, the birds the bees I say: argon
Slide, slide that slide trombone
The candied incandescence lollies glow
The honkey horn wail of the beached i-Pod
Hegel’s phenomenology online it’s the triad’s work
Depicts the quaver in a tantrum of desire
The liar’s cage, the seer’s cage, the cage the cage
No shaman talkin’ but if I were, I’d be
Wham bam thankyoumammin the nomenclature sucks
I’m black alright: I’ll never let them forget it.
#4: The Golden Catfish of the Kalahari
blind, (un) seen, slide down dharma sluices between cool silicon swells
Abbie Hoffman drives his Sirocco all the way to Morocco
just to see it rhyme
Joseph Campbell beat your drum bells what’s Left left
spark up firefly fields, paint the canvas blank
needy ascii astrorisks snog to racy raster rhythms
We are just cogs Nippon buddha bees still
poke me when the toilet’s free, the widening gyre cannot hear the gyrator
and vulture masked women circle the golden arches of Abu Dhabi’s Mickey Ds
movie set monkeys circle the Kubrick kabala
hey, I’m no flute put out the futile fires
don’t stage manage I’m no Kung Fu Cain
O the unseen superfluity of the sluicy sublime
‘neath clichéd sands, one measured cup of borrowed time
#5: I Am the Mayor of Albuquerque
Higgs’ bosom brimming, Frank Fukyomama, the living end
I am the mayor of Albuquerque
a four-stroke engine mowing down the koan
a riveting star from a froggy pollywog
high, tense wires thrum gutsy catacombs play me you violin
even the wind’s been plagiarized O turn in it!
some say the world ends with desire how nice
But I’m the mayor of Dansig pirouettes of the last snow demur
same old damning quest daddy, will I die?
blind as Lear weeping three old monkeys whistle Winn Dixie in the rain
squalls you get the feeling there’ll be more, the same
Daddy I am the mayor Of the bells, bells, the bells:
crushing pressure the diamond’s heaven the diamond’s hell
And I don’t have the body to sing electric, balls
#6: I Couldn’t See the Lake for the Trees
the pastry prologue up above where whorleds collide
one man washes the number 5 (no joke)
flametendrilledpeat the whiskey neat the unmistakeable stench of defeat
Ireland! Byron, Shelley, the monstress Frangipansies
raging love to kalimba tones all Billy Cobham thumbs
where Wordsworth drawled — el blotto — through lonesome rorschach clouds
chances are Pound was sane was staged
I am destroying my world with puns
again, she said, and he took her thyme
peacock leaves and butterflies frittata away the fugal wind
some say the English girls are fire, some say ice
und…Liebe ist in Geier, der darauf wartet
And Frank Stein said: Fuck me, the ice floes’ve melted
I poked she soared then Bakshi came and cumbed
#7: Kerry’s Out the Window
obviously, she can’t tell a joke, plus there was a door
haven’t had eggnog for years can’t fathom the stuff
there were no baroque bars along the Bosphorus
her seeds banged to life up and down in brickies’ hods
the pithy dithyrambic dirge she sings all spires of yesteryear
an unhandled exception has occurred Magellan’s bored
akimbo gestures my despair a future looking mighty tense
now that she has a bowl of collages in her room
you could draw the conclusion I’m some flaming asshole
they’ll be no jewry tamerind here
out! like a fireman at the bell out to her own fire
inbox spam outhouse tomatoes the usual suspect lives
but, when she returns, her shnozzle
fits like a snub-nosed in my eye muzzle to my head
#8: Take a Taxi to Taksim Square
if you jog along the Bosphorus you will die
Drink Coke! smoke, smoke, smoke
the dolmuş driver wore London Fog and sneezes hard our lethargy
some pommy hired Johnny Turk, hey who ordered the curry?
age before beauty and it was a beautiful age gilded and guilt free
sunset over the suspires a Kurd just jumped into the sea
It’s hard to gauge taxonomies just follow your bliss
time, time, time Medusa weeps in the Cistern chapel the sea
in the dolmuş mirror I’m Rainer Magolds all squeezed together
Taksim can be taxing whirling dervishes swarm the tree
I snowed there once and *jang* a buddha bell
and whilst Sibel sipped tea Dolly’s throat was slit for Eid
redlight all Fellini flowed night engulfed Leander’s Light mmm, falafels
smoked smack some bomb goes off someone says, in Turkish, the Triffids have arrived
#9: The Kike Who Liked Me
collidoscopic shards we screamed Fire!
the looping flash of outraged glass they say collage is dead
Mike was five, then never five again such despair
The Strangler’s loose! Jesus sobs we had no phone
the mezuzah’s angle the old “kike” came and wept
Jackson Pollock Jesus crucified to a queen-sized bed Ham
Michael was never five again
flailing are there museums for such living ghosts?
out back, wild poppies the old “kike” wept and stroked my hair
after, the pall a chance to live, had you died mother mezuzah
Mike robs banks artichoke, I Adonai eloheinu
what must he have seen such old “kike” despair
every mirror a new dialectic you can’t coax oblivion
they took her away they took us away the old man stroked my hair
#10: Crawling to Rotto in the Rain
against the push back curls the blow back whale don’t make waves
fair dinkum Johnno an encrypted smile come up for air
percipi manipulandum the brain drains clockwise but nescio latine
at Gallipoli we smash Efes Pilsener diggers rocking the kabala a doleful didgeridoo
fast on the ferry over some cop takes notes investigates the sky
Bill Murray would love all the pretty quokkas pop-up ghosts with didgeridoos
many “Abos” died here on this island one swim per year
Children pedal along to the lighthouse where they drawl and twang at the sea
I met a blackfella once an open ward on a walkabout
he ran at me with a rock singing Gold!
Wagner’s not so bad it’s in his chromotones three degrees of separation
some clusterfucked kid from Babylon
on Rotto you can ogle mudpie and even mudmen smile
bells collages the feeling of nothing there despair, despair
#11: Fellini Gives Good Butterfly
Red Light the frame develops lipsticked midgets lave the moon
underage butterflies with silver wings showing vintage Janus films
we watched Roma spaghetti cunnilingus was involved
constellated pasties, gluons, Higgs boson Coltrane blues
there’s nothing orangeable anymore Warburg Pincus Turn Yourself In
of surging adrenaline waves;
to which all my ganglia raves
like little hands that gleefully laud
a magic show and thrill for more
Mike was never five again
mad chronicler and broke sit with Vidal signs of the end
the moon a lovesick clown balloon, gassed remember the horrorcaused
Alas, poor Yorick absent thee from fellatio awhile (I joke, get to it!)
The beautiful life O, thanks for the mammaries
#12: When the Bell Drools, Ring Them Bells
There will be magic so long as there are metaphors
Socrates said: Fuck Democracy and downed El Cid
Every effort mustard maid support the tropes
there’s no longer any such thing as crime
it’s all asymmetry you’ll be droned if you rhyme
the minotaur, found with a clue, weeps in his empty cubicle
wave particle duality cruel schizophrenic shards
drool (simon says) Julian’s encrypted smile
it’ll all be over soon the Bradley Manning trial
slackjawed jackdaws smoking cubist cigars (Bells!)
Dem never love, never love poor Marcus (till dem betray ‘im)
John Ruskin got stoned in Venice my balls are blue earths
Ogden Nash blew Bennett Cerf a kiss before I die
it’s the paradigm, stupid St.Thomas Kuhnalini ring dem bells
#13: When the Drones Come
clowns killing clowns floppy ambivalences of power
amino acid signature strikes change your Rorschach now
a cheap TransubsTanTiaTion money shots, then money screams
the room full of mousetraps snapping up the domino’s pizza
duck-rabbits are everywhere drooling why?
Monsanto’s a concept by which we’ll measure our pain (say it again)
and cluster bombs willy-willies of razor wire Turn It In™
Christ, bin Laden was tall! The Zion Train is coming
oak is the strongest wood for arks, now bark Magellan’s adrenaline sea
riding the Gravy Train the dogs refuse alas poor Hamlet, I knew him well
very cross hairs missed me by a pubic centimeter
rage against the dying of the light
fire ice fire ice fire ice the big bangled whimper how nice
Lon’s got a hunch clang, the rusty bells
#14: O God, Nietzsche Was Right
Juggling the navy north wall: the breath of death
prophets the lost the bound O bring them bagels!
I’m black alright, but fuck it, just forget it
Joe Campbell beat your meat balls are all that’s left
high tense wires high strung falsetto beliefs my blue guitar upside yo head
Wordsworth was a poofter and so were his clouds
I kindle gestures? my bad all how you frame it and the lens
Was it Medusa or Madonna? I kinda just threw that out there (collages, right?)
out back in the territories some wild-eyed kike beats the shit out of let’s-call-him-Ahmed, who has a stroke, and that’s why darkies were born
right back atcha the cask you need it’s getting old!
Plato’s Cave, Socrates’s dialectics, Nietzsche wired in tights fwit went right over their heads to the very end
John Ruskin saw gargoyles, so you know he’s snortin’ some serious shit
not a dry ice in the house badda being badda boom how nice
80,000 lonely one-way trips to Mars (*astrorisks*) koan fields repeat repeat repeat, and rinse

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