I had a friend named Hank.
Not too smart, he sure liked to drink.
A-A-Addict, adherent, fanatic, junkie,
compulsive habitually.
I had a friend named Hank.
Not too smart, he hated to think.
Not a killer: a destroyer.
Just ask the bugs that he used to torture.

Through expression it grew,
although review attested to point of view.
Who was him?
Who was who?
Without a clue he decided to
light his cigarette with gasoline.
Every breath a bitter fuck.
Forced to be forcibly wearing a memory.

Hank liked to fish with
buckets and buckets of blood,
but forever surprised when a shark would come.
Didn't need it, but compeled to feed it
a history of hunger defined his ways.


from The Lurker Batch, released January 11, 2011


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Dummy Jar New York, New York

An experimental rock a band.

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