JIM HEAVILY'S POSTCARD FEAT NUMERO TRES

TWO NEW ZINE CREATIONS FOR 8TH WORDFEST @ LOS ANGELES MISSION COLLEGE

LOS ANGELES CO. JAIL SONNET

swastikas and stacks of money, the names of your children drilled in
the forever-face of your first smitten incident among mere simpletons
forehead advertisement, teardrops, neighborhood coordinates in Villainese
old English letters, cryptic, spindly, sanguine alphabet manacles
annoying red lipstick stamp, delicately abandoned on the jugular and neck
your set, your clique, cufflinks of barrio galas, vixens, tributes
Ulna highway signage, Califas in cursive, suspended over dubious flecks
passages of resonance from the good book, Alfred E. Newman's bucktooth
ass, an enormous middle-finger fist pointed at the Erf, a balloon dome
the Misfits logo, bust of my greaser Dad, names of my babies mamas
peckerwood jesters, spider webs in my hairline, or lip trestles blown
full-tilt stupid with earnotes ascending from the sideburn to the canal
and up into the hemispheres of taste, a place where you feel the need
to tattoo kill on your knuckles and punch your way free to an enlarged screed.

ALBÓNDIGAS

Las albóndigas remedy remorse, and have been known
to erase all vestiges of a shitty day.
Las albóndigas require furious thumbwork and
bloom in briny, tomato-based broth.
What could be more perfect that ground meat meteors
imploded with cumin, shattered with garlic?

Cristian calls, says, I have my mother’s recipe for albóndigas.
He tells us this as if we are sixteen and taking the recipe
for a joyride. He says it as if the recipe is a state secret cloistered
by amnesiatic librarians, as if carrying the recipe in your brain
automatically imparts short-term memory loss.

Las albóndigas are Mexican soul food, they bulwark your anima,
they prop up your resilience and defenses; let us say that albóndigas
buoy the whine so that it does not weigh or make the coolie overtired.

Las albóndigas say to us as they replace our double A’s: You, you are
besieged on the daily, the slings and arrows of tolerance weigh heavy
in your quiver, but there is respite, and it has been marinating, wordlessly
like some underwater volcano spigot, broiling broth eminence.

Las albóndigas are meant to dry the more waterlogged parts
of your day, so if Cristian tells you to be there at 7, to bring Panda
comma Criatura & co., you cancel all your grand Netflix plans,
all your machinations to the God of Paja, and you clear the calendar
for the evening.

You make sure you are there a little after 7
with a 6 pack of chelas.

ODE TO DRACULA SUÁREZ

We love you because you will do whatever to win
even if that means demeaning yourself from means.

We love you because you are the horse that bucks
and debrains an heiresses that’s escaped
with blueprints for the Star-blowing-up-stars.

We love you because you are our father’s
Mother, mother’s father, a decoy in the blind
that doesn’t know when to shut up,
stop quacking, relent, callate la puta boca.

Suárez: te amamos por que you are a Dark Vader
of Incisors, viejo! We love you as Periodontal Peronists!

Like, quien te manda darle un jab a Gonzalo Jara
en el pinche World Cup, in the penalty box,
only to be detected on Closed-Circuit Host?
Who has sent you to elude the linemen and
referees? Quien le puede detonar some equanimity
a este Uruguayan Thug Euclidian?

And what about those ridiculous things you were alleged
to have muttered to Evra? And what about what drove you
to bite Bakkal in the shoulder while you stormtrooped
for Ajax in the Eredivisie? Loco, don’t they have Law & Order
reruns in your neck of the woods to learn you some Forensics?
A salubrious bite on the skin of another can funaticize your aura.

Luisito, por fi, dejate de morder a tus oponientes
don’t you see that Passion has no mandible like that of Colossus
that droves of goals for Liverpool make you hungry like the wolf
terse like the Vindictive Futbol Pharaoh, recondite like a subcutaneous gopher
a joker of a spoiled sport, a Uruguayanillionaire dreaming of grinding
the shoulder out of existence, the overbite into a sort of circulation only the infirm
can respond to. But, what might you take for uncontrollable gnashing, gnawing,
gnarlying? What side effects are conjured by the manic carnivore overstepping his reach
with ends all about the ends and not the manner of play, the honor of an eloquence technique.