The Wendigo of Cape Canaveral

I
furnaced charnel fuselage
crumpled waning,
dying
rod
Raind down Pa on Texas sod
devoured man whom self had gnawed!

Consumed the black man
white dude
red
And all of them, these candid dead
“My fiery feet,”
“My feet,” they said
o fire hot, (Lord! cracklin’ bread!)
do jigs on light
in glit-rin’ threads
BROWN!: …GET B…ACK!..
..GET…..DO…WN…
I..SAID..

So 6 grade science class hangs heads

one kid prays
“LOL GEE,” he says
well Jeezum Crow
and craned up head
why these heroes
and not, instead
why not the moslems?

NO
She says,

“This faithy shit,
this trust in _od.
That’s why some niggers’ feets aint shod”
(she won’t say that, of course, my God)
“That’s why today on TechTV,
we’ve paused the tits,
and beer, and Wii,
and stuff bout girls&games and glee-
and look up to the sky do we.
Not at _od!
But look, you’ll see.
It’s judgment raining down on me,
on you
US ALL
the penalty
for standards missed
goals out of line
six million faggots rubbed with lime
(for quiz score bonus,
this one time,
it’s science vocab
‘diction’ rhymes…)
and THAT, you kids
was fuel sublime.
But spent us foolish,
nickel dimed-
by selfish, cloistered, narrow-minds
they’ve sacrificed our best
like swine.”

Well spy Me
wall-on-fly Me
gloom
inside that little darkened room
with draft,
I blow through sullen tomb
To blot harsh sweat
or dry some tears
and blow thru clockwork tower’s ears
(who, caked with dust, lay dormant years)

In hangar, cor’(O)’ner,
grey and dim
o’er day-bris wide as hat had brim
head was lowered
maybe grim?
nah, just sleeping
yep
that’s him
he’ll deconstruct on Senate’s whim
then restore fam (and foam) with vim

The next shift comes on
howdy m8,
tall ‘uns
strong ‘uns
muskals
FATE
you toil good-
they toil great.
neath weathered body’s shifting weight

the truest,
the most lucid state
above wan Midgard
i relate

that asian youths should macro late,
and shit in diapers
ramen ate,
far past the withdrawal date

that canny valley girl should walk
into press,
then on to shop
insert her red card,
swipe the blue,
yellow for the tare or jew,
(or RFIDCLIP on through)
strafe subcommittee
>bloody face<
presidential ammo case
then speedy outro
up to space

Before the liftoff
fore you go,
Here’s charred remains of former Ho

Down catwalk in the latest threads
and dreams of cat half live/half dead
vacuum helm shrouds zipperhead

So here is I
and my good friend,
his hat still down
ignoring trend
he watches girl,
with distant gaze
like famished frog in tadpole phase,
as lilypad glides up towards haze
(i want it burnt in cance-rus blaze)

Then down she comes, in several days
this friend, he’s stalked her,
now he stays
to head of line of wild press
who scrape at plasma’d hem of dress
but still,
these suits,
(at Suits behest?)
keep visage sealed
though torsos rest

They slump to cashwal
hand-on-knee
fireside, crossed legs
for tea
and dormant sit till poked
by we

And poke we do
This one felloah,
my friend asks prodding,
really slow,
but somewhat terse
“You DeFago?”
No response
cold shoulder prick
just staring through dark glass and shit
can’t even see his face
fuck it
tar baby- you’ll speak when spit
Upside head with tolchock hit

The helm falls off
and nothing’s there-()

Transparent gubment
helm unmarred
first in comets, rays, and stars
tell no lies-
and no shit too-
they’ll let you choose your spook¹ or boo²

(¹)but skin,
and flesh,
glasses- and hair,
a dapper smirk
a nose, a mouth
a young black man
professhnal air

(and thus, no end with Blackwood scare,
but NASA is a waste
so there.)

(²)save grit and husk
or Zeus’ hairs?
no
closer eying proves as ash;
burnt effigies of rulers past;
body wavers,
slumbers
fast