Kinked Garden Hose

Feeder of crabgrass and killer of backyard sod—
My aqueduct snake of gushing wet ejaculate—
My shower spout of indefinite end,
in time of drought ran out.
And all the drying sprouts were forced to fend before
they’d wilt and die for my store of moisture’s out
on this summer splash
of noontime sunlight raw.

Like drool or spit from my endless foamy lips—
Like nectar—like sap—like sweetest milk
tapped in birth from nature’s endless supply,
it’s been running out to steam.
It’s been wasted on the weeds!—And now this pit-mouth
is dry and choking for the will of God to stoke my
frontier sky and bring
the rains to soak the thaw.

The Nile in the soil shrank and grass is pale
and gasping for breath in fear of death
because an hour passed and still no drop
was felt by its tongue to melt!
Their blades browned and drowned in the sun’s heatstroke
without shade—flowers knelt and prayed salvation
in summer’s Sudan to
open up my hose’s maw.

Now lawless paranoia for the Armageddon heat
is treated when my kink is bent to spring
its treasure down the lawn in a tidal burst!
Dry ones put down their mace,
the sickly bathed, the thirsted drank my splash,
and a milky drug flew for those junkies in the juice
sitting again plump on
their softened garden beds.


--Poems from the Sprawl

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