David Lau

THE TRUMPET BLACKS


out the most dismantling Miles solo, Isle of Wight
drift alloy out-working it outward—

fossil waters on additional vocals—
the surge in Honolulu murder—

pixilated darkness so late to the money, like Carlos said,
“Da goobernment? ’tis dead to me”—

Streets and I battled some deep make
make diffi-Cote-D’Ivoire.

City ensemble: cotton dress, sleeves,
reality completed by thought a shadow of real estate

lute shall cause the lost wonder
terrifying creature singer—

lay hella book on folks who hang out.
The room is snug, Halal.

Please don’t go Suzhou River, Muriel
the collected Chronoschisms of Julian Gracq

Mountain fire lion bad girl mysterious
stifling natural sex frightens

the calm or phelm sister of Flaherty’s Nanook.
J’ai existé. Th. Leningrad, if I lose you in plus pans,

Fallujah, Fallujah, Fallujah

temple music and time ghosts
pour L’Espagne et L’Afrique.

One-armed bandit marginal utility mongoose—
my homeland is grey green

East German apartment blocks
who remember Walter Rodney.

Hoods of z. Dol(l’s)phin-schwitz on switches
straight not giving a fuck about normativity.

Shenyang copper plating factory worker housing
just after the war. The transition to socialism

after the Japanese occupation.
Our horses and cattle are strong

like Genghis Khan in tumultuous love.
(What is romance? My soul like a willow.)

Rastafari, Jah Jah bless.
The conquering lion rules over all.

David Lau is the author of the recent chapbook Bad Opposites (SpeCt Books) and a collection of poems called Virgil and the Mountain Cat (UC Press). He co-edits Lana Turner. Some of his recent poems and essays have appeared in A Public Space, The American Reader, Armed Cell, The Los Angeles Review of Books, and Boom: a Journal of California.