by Jonathan Doughty

Frank Booth and Saint Silouan Tour the Yanjing Brewery

These days (and even in the beginning)
It seems like most would like to
Wane the crescent
Implode the star and burn the cross

Like most, we’d like to feel as much
As we can before changing ways
We’d like to be healthier but the best part — the foam — keeps spilling out
While we jog and gasp
And everyone would like to hug babies with distended bellies
And feed them full

But we’re occupied, halfway attentive and wholly working
In the business of doing business for the
Unmoved mover, transcendental signifier, collective unconscious, capital, the nation
And any combination,
Swelling, exploding, and nailing ourselves firmly in places made ours

So now, at the crossroads, and when ready to change
Busy your mind in the outer darkness
And stay suave

Bao’s Present

Proudly pointing out her name-brand brand new polished steel-toed black boots
Bao spread resolutely scent-free vegan-friendly sunscreen
High in protection factor
To her swan-neck arms
That big summer concert day’s gray morning on the open damp green
Still not legal, we subsisted on draught beer vapors and soon-banned buzz-packed bidis
Newly discovered and bought from a vendor of hippie sundries on recommendation from B.K.,
Whose band had just fought drizzle and shock playing
The early show on the small stage.
The afternoon’s big headliner recycled fits
Of intermittent moshes contained downstage and slamdances set free for the open damp green
Where Bao’s clavicle snapped under errant invitation
From an airborne muddy steel-toed black boot
We never saw her again
Thanks, Doc