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Brendan Clancy

of

Troy, NY, US

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birdskeletons

by

Brendan Clancy

Pleasureness wiggles her hips flow motioning drown
Conans fumblin walking like a native on river falls edge

heath heath heath ha ha breath hu hu heath
dress so red listing misty eyed accidents and emergency vehicles
Chen Hi Wok we make fists
with few to met dreadoll

quixotes water sack goats bladder
drug the skeleton of a bird
wore a hole in the mountain every time he passed

so you itchin the flitch in yer smile is quite obsessed
like the abscess in yer mouth
Mount Evolution Volcano Awakens

The dust from this eruption
will choke life and light for years
collects in your ears like this static scritchascritcha scratcha
cute as a cucumber she got your number
plating up lunch and slapping extra fries on the side

cropping textures from jeans to broken glass on the side of the road
I trust my black angle iron brackets and back away slowly
the sculpture is complete the results are procreative woe creative
why buy the drink when you can buy the still

Why go to Des Moines?

Why go anyplace but Chicago?

The redeeming City of the US the press the rest the life the life the life
the Bulls the Bears the beastly office stares the curbs and chairs
bus station, train station french lace and galleries
music oh music.

crest the sell approach a customer and let them know
drifters paradise inn motel lodge credenzas
turbine frisson lumbering wash toned silhouette oxidized and brittle
quinine and soda soda and cyan cyan cyan Zion lemme riot on
bumming down again
crumbing down again
saying farewell to those bars of subsatantial weight and tensile strength

tonal variance struck down by your stereo just bun of a says
grow human much tracked
slip slip
double bounce now first to the front then to the back
you better you better oooohh not a Phat Leap? OOOOhhhhhhhh
you on your Prozac and thinkn you so the shit
busta gonna turn over a garbage can and call himself a rebel
look at his treble hugging his homies
more like blowmees
a-z it

backscratching back frozen fromlocked at the keyboard
Not all the Van Zandts got the talent
I see

I'm not the gun who centered your brain
I'm just a bludgeoned pissed off overloaded database
the guy just forgot to play
walked out on stage looked at the light and
nothing
vapored outland crowd of leather and perfume intox
why did you come this way
you knew this would happen
you like when this happens

must admit
must admit
oh auighhhhhghhhh!!! ohhhhh weeeeeiiiiiiiiioooo))00)000)##)#I#IuU&&7&&GgGDddddd

I'm just a grunt on the front sent to distribute the bogus literature abroad