Nabbed 'n Sasquatch Holler

Nabbed ’n Sasquatch Holler

Alive and in-the-news tuned in

At a time when race is once more ace issue —

As if the sins of our fathers’ slavery will not fade from consciousness,

So much dire damage done to negroes as dregs,

No American mind ever freed of all the aftermaths.

They come with sticks to measure dicks,

And stakes to kill other bachelors, if that’s what it takes.

White USA, let’s say, in a death rattle. Full-comprehended, their

Newly minted minority status does not go gentle—rather revert

To Euro wails of supremacy, browns and blacks down a dark ladder.

They come with sticks to measure dicks,

And stakes to kill other bachelors, if that’s what it takes.

True, it was caucasians perceived the electromagnetic spectrum: —

All the whirligigs and doodads that come of that keenness,

Other funk continents in slack-jawed awe of ‘white’ techno-tyranny.

They come with sticks to measure dicks,

And stakes to kill other bachelors, if that’s what it takes.

But the world outfits itself with infrastructure, when here comes

Afro ebullience in all its sound and color; Latino libido; Asian

Excellence and order ~ the whole swirl of all the ice creams, gurl!

New York, San Francisco, London, Berlin ~ mènaged lovers craving diverse

City, Love University, more is more, bigger, blacker, better than before . . . !

They come with sticks to measure dicks,

And stakes to kill other bachelors, if that’s what it takes.

Gender-queer, come to the fore! Be yourself here. Geeks, leer!

Every hipster conversant with twenty lunch trucks of every stripe.

Lovefest, colorwheel, all over town the old ways given in to heal.

O the multi-hued commonweal, promised to races, rational-fashionable.

But there’s a zombie in this groovy movie, horror flick, after all, all that

Introductory élan: Audrey Hepburn kissing Sidney Poitier ésprit de corps, gone.

Straggle beard, neck hair, flaky pink fat with swastika and cross

On the oil-lined knuckles, dirt-blues, they’re back in pilled flannel

And flack jackets. What crud to fuck up our fiesta, neanderthal

Nails pulling us into the leaf litter of their meth-trailered hollers.

MJM 8/17 SF