koeneke

Rodney Koeneke

Jazz Impressions of Gazprom

Labor scab, you owe me for the drinks drunk in Hawaii that we gave the apparatchiks    to string management from trees Each new time I punch you a fissure sends a gas plume above the Czech Republic    where the ladies love my ghee It’s just business—gluing shtetels to excuses for the awnings stuck with numbers of suppliers    for their music on CD Surfers, hear me check statistics like a lover come downriver past the estuary pipeworks    through night’s orthopedic sleeve Stick a man inside a tanker and he’ll treat you like a Hapsburg being martyred at a border    to consolidate the see It’s so lonesome here, Monsignor but they’ve blocked my work computer you will find the best chorizo    under domes the churchly flee Come and crowd my cramped bodega, Ms. Provocatrix in pantsuit, I’ve abandoned economics    so cassette for you is free I can orchestrate your folkdance, little Hussite with a handbag, cap the oil with this nipple    and the line stops killing bream Look Lara, I’m so splattered with your theme inside the movie that’s your ring down in my cocktail?    I’m pure green boy energy In the dark I do my thinking if this movie has an ending if it doesn’t, feel me breathing    on your fake neuropathy You’re no good at being vicious, I looked younger in Peshawar. She is foreign, with a seester?    I am coming. Let me be.

     
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