do not go gentle into that TV dinner

11 Days ’til Hitler’s Birthday: A letter to David Pritchka

at last!
i thought you’d expired
or South
or handless after a mowing incident
or a boil-inna-bag brain after
being separrested from your body
or… worse:
working.

now is the time to
make a pitch for Satan
now is the time
to say yes to the libidinous summer
now is the time
to plan your escape from
B.A.Johnston’s hometown
(“…i always knew Jesus was from
hah-hah-hah-hah-Hamilton…”)

all the folk here keep asking me
“why don’t you go back to the bottle?
you were way more fun on the bottle.”
but, also,
“where is Oats-Mavis?
wither has he gone?”
and i try to explain
but it all comes out
like a ribald Canterbury tale
especially the part
about the monk and his mule

actually i don’t go to town
much… since they imposed
martial mcluhan law
–only in Kelowna
would they make it mandatory
to discuss quad theory and
mud-bog culture as a function
of giant truck
over beer bong

but you haven’t said yes
so why make you miss the place?
oh, sure, the wake boarders
are replicating
and the work is lachrymose
and they hardly mention your
transgression with that basset hound
anymore
much

so its probably safe to come back
and scrap that disguise
–you know the one:
all blissed out on quinoa
and lifts
and Nick Drake
and wabi sabi
and blazing colour
and God! Speed! You! Black! Etc!
and student-poor, student-fucked, student-wrung-out
(portrait of the student as a young dilettante)

embrace distractivity
(Minneapola will tell you she invented this
brilliant portmanteau
but, vraiment,
who yuh gonna believe?)
embrace your hated enemy
embrace the night wing
(what?)
embrace oral hygeine
embrace Lenny Bruce
embrace the dulling of the senses
uh…
embrace d.a. levy
embrace Patchen
embrace Brautigan (again)
embrace the foreplay in foreclosure

guards at Fort Sumter will
tell you (were they still living)
that the eerie dawn brought a chill
not easily dispelled by Union woolens
nor the incendiary shells
lobbed over from Charleston proper
they’ll speak on about wishing
cursing they hadn’t made for Kelowna
while they still had the chance
but they were beguiled (are we not?)
by the “Civil” in Civil War
thinking the Confederates might
hurl insults
something about Pierre Gustave Teuton Beauregard
having a go with Lincoln’s mother
but the rest is PBS (are we also?)
and the South still reels
(as does the entirety of the rust belt)
having missed the last ferry
out of Spotsylvania
–but that’s all upper case now.

“yes.”
that’s all one says
to the draft,
because you’re a patriot,
because camo
because,
silly,
because Hamilton smells funny(er)
in summer
because there’s time enuff
for grant applications
in purgatory
because hiking is precursorial
to a Zappatist-anarcho rebellion
and the ‘orth is the new ‘outh
because “YOU ARE GONNA MAKE IT
THROUGH THIS YEAR…!”
if i kill you.

because bloody is the new black
and we’re only alive:
1. to whip out the masterpieces
(cue dramatic music)
B. to refrain from abstention
3. to garner rapport
4. to Crom!
4. so long…?

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2 responses to “do not go gentle into that TV dinner

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