Squatter’s Feast



Nitwit and harbinger
digging for bones turned ash long ago

among eschewed bedpans of Long Island Sound
wooing smoking Phaedras

and falling to the anchor and scythe of diabolical pinheads
spent

windexing the oracle of celebrity.
Filing away my prosthetic friends

we have gathered to gaze the Eros, every one of us
secretly though, trying to guess what medication the other is on.

We are the Orange posse
amateur surfers of the Pythagorean tidal wave.

Native rhythms, frighteningly irritating
like tarantulas spitting eggs into the ear.

Like the Nightcrawler’s sleuth tango in the blue hours
moments passing smooth like corrected stool.

The scientist’s ominous shadow
flutters in metamorphosis

against the starburst Fender
when the constipated poet laments his crybaby opera.

And oh those golden times on honey beach
where the statues have more fun than the people do

(except for the pigeon-men
living large on handouts from the fat ladies).

So now Prague or somewhere else cool in photos is waiting
for Tatiana’s embroidered letter of dissent?




Chris D'Errico was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, USA on February 11, 1970. He writes songs, poems and short prose, plays blues harmonica and works graveshift as an exterminator in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. He is the author of several poetry collections, and his writings have appeared in print journals and online magazines scattered throughout cyberspace. He shares a home with his wife, Tracy, and their two cats, Hank and Arlo. Sometimes he performs as a one-man-band with his harmonica-heavy, experimental funk/blues project: www.myspace.com/sidewalkbeggar.