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Things in Light Poetry Series 2013: B.A. Crumm


The eleventh installment of TiL's 2013 poetry series features the work of writer, artist, musician and culture jammer B.A. Crumm.

teen angst sonnets (not really sonnets), pt. 5

Hedy Lamarr started the telegram invented the cell phone tech
Pink, the lion is wading in the pool
At the Chateau Marmont with lipstick
On his coronated collar follow me, follow me
Repeat this fantastically fancy & furious & fascinated
So froze in time
Which bungalow will she fit into the best? He thought, He thought
Hungry ghosts are always waiting & watching
So ugly they are bored pretty
That photographer got distracted by
Hedy’s gams that Summer
And crashed into a wall Roundabout at 10:15
Vigil, candles on the sidewalk
It was Sunday.



Saraswati

Saraswati सरस्वती             (a   l o o s e   translation)
Sookie  Stackhouse
 is    so    ”hotrightnow”
»what about fake fangs«
fauxfirefinishit. / finnish shit? /
there are too many good books
  /other things on the table/
leaning learning language
    liquid        &       lost   the  ”holdhands”   &   extra arms
       still                schooled
             sing    it   in
                sanskrit                  गायत्री



For Uhura/ & for Her

FOR UHURA
Versus why does it always have to be
Verses.
It feels worse than the cursive
Curses.
Whisper. Phone. Spaceship.
Simple things in Space.
Here: Not quite so simple.
Uhura you sent me this message from 1957
“ & America it drowns itself with machines & weeping.
-J.S.”
And I send you this message back from 2010
“ & America it drowns itself with machines & weeping.
-B.A. Crumm ”Will they get it, Uhura?
Mirror the middle man in the mirror middle.
Riddle.
Underdog. Horse on a string around neck. Pause.
& sit underneath a dogwood tree.
Like an underdog would.
Uhura. Count on You.
Cipher. Codebreaker.
Riddle fixer. Oracle.
Or a call.
Sumerian or something.
Uhura ,the battle cry has gone wild
And so have the girls.
Uhura, is your headset fired up?
The battered battle song/cry is Babel.
Babel to Men on Earth.
“& All the Universe is laughing at you. “
( & Us)
( or Maybe along with us- not so sure yet)
“ The Universe is also conspiring to
Shower us w/ Blessings. “ ( we’ll see )
& either way the Universe is filled with
Cocksuckers.
Uhura, make the girl a champ.
In your stars.
Light years away Uhura responds:
“ You can start laughing now you Bastards!



Why The Piano Player Knows Everything

“You’re a weak little pony, Jim, to pull big men like us.”- Dylan Thomas

Why the Piano Player knows everything
( a version )
at night we beckon a gentle congregation
although what really gathers are the
heckling hounds
& we are janitors because there is
the constant upkeep of keeping
all the assholes
at bay
& eagle eye it from the center of the
swarm storm
kick a guy out for blocking the view
& the dancing bear whores causing a riot
the merchant marine chimes in
 ”you just can’t win in here, brother.”
 ” don’t even try it.”
maybe if you take a closer look that can change
look for the one that holds the book
closest to her chest
shes holding her horses that stole the summer
air & the radio sirens are blasting their way across
the beltway to get to you, stealing her
thunder
she goes under
never put the make-believe on
make & believe it. ’ cause there are lots of irons
in the fire & lots to iron out in this old discotheque
yes & when everything goes & grows black in this
electric wilderness
make that call. there will be an answer.
remember, Cowboy : don’t ever let them shoot you in the dream



ghost catch time: a poem for hybrids

i know futured cities
cassandra said so
sat in sandboxered
shorts skirted w/ the
sacred sacrement
almighty aphrodite
she rolls by
acknowledge knowledge
on the edge of the ledge
desired it
after a waltz of you
we waltzed together
wanting
to break in
two bear the name
bride of old order
far from sunshine
always alien aphrodite
artemis clowns you
confusion of the tribes
lady of the wild things
admittedly witch
which trial?
lady of the wild things
i think i love you
but i want to know
for sure oh the permanence of
prophecy like rum &
coke & pirates & radical
here-say-this-to-me
factor’d the maxi-mum-speak
wearing that shady shade
of lipstick to town again
cassandra puts on her
monster mash mask
tape recording
all saints day
for all the
sinners of the alphabet
mahalo apollo
it’s ghost catch time again
mahalo apollo
a sudden calamity awaits you
the old  “switcheroo”
dwell in diss-member-meant
   m e a n i n g
put the head  



***


B.A. Crumm is a writer, artist, musician & culture jammer. Her poetry was a recent feature in Gigantic Sequins Literary Journal. Her artistic adventures have been featured in The Village Voice as well as several group shows around the US. B.A. is at work on a new album & the forthcoming chapbook Staircase Wit. When not hitchhiking or touring she is happily based in her newly adopted home of New Orleans, LA with her dog, Cinder. She likes pizza, cheeseburgers & The Ramones. She is still rumored to be dating that Mr. T guy.

For more B.A., visit:

art/poetry blog: crummcake.tumblr.com
music: goldbandit.bandcamp.com










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