Homage to Jackson Pollock, 1912-1956

I might be the real
                Leroy McCoy
                way out west
                of Gila River
you know I pushed my
                soft bap
                out her funky vulva
                her black thighs
                and my first cry
                was Scotch-Irish
                a scrake
                a scratch
                a screighulaidh
I passed nights
                on the desert floor
                fertil arid zone
                smoke trees
                creosote bush
                Joshua trees
till I lit
                on dreamtime
                wrote my nose
                in sand
                the infants’
I did learn for sure there
                chicken flesh
and turned wise
                as sagebrush
smart as the tabs
                on a 6-pack
                as cat’s claw
I flicked fast through the switches
                licking her oils
                blood gunge
                paint juice
                Stella McClure
                off of my skin
rubbed all of them back but
                hear me sister!
                brother believe me!
just banging on
                like a bee in a tin
                like the burning bush
cracking dipping and dancing
                like I’m the last
                real Hurrican Higgin
                critter and Cruthin
                scouther and skitter
                witness witness
                WITNESS TREE!

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