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J A C K E T # 5 |
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this material is copyright © Haki Pok and Jacket magazine 1998 The URL address of this page is http://jacketmagazine.com/05/hakipok.html please read the copyright notice and see the links at the foot of the page back to Jacket # 5 contents page back to Jacket's homepage |
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Haki Pok P A S T O R A L D I S P O S A L P A S T O R A L D I S P O S A L Theft is a property of the lethargy detergent, and the Japanese fantails, burrowing into the gravel, like phantoms. But modesty isn't a property of the big guns of Modesto who ride and ride (their lungs bear chalices of the choir), catch on like wildfire or lowlier, even lowliest, suggest the irredentist heaving cathedral -- "You flew me by in a dry heave sigh," the blond scat-sang, pandering to desire. Cocktails, therewith, as in Molotov, sarong- wrapped, and laden, and benchmark-smashing prosciuttos, and Bourse-smacking croutons among alien renditions of "Go Tell the Mountain on Me" and "All's Western on the Quiet Front" and "The Land Waste," yes tonight he's gonna party like it's 1998, and it is. Ok, ok - the rhomboid! And of the horrible, terrible, portable, comestible, he chose a Scottish lambskin and a Japanese "look-at-it-this-way," as though you, so to speak, were looking through and not at a TV, scratching the remission with a failed sense of fiction -- but your fractious ass goes on and on, a storm cloud brewing o'er the factions of the Barbizon . . . "O, Brazil! I'd take you in, if you weren't carrying me!" |
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