A Game of Gogol's Bluff, revision no. 4

[Brian Roberts]

In the town of Perplexity
lightning creates thirst I love this line.
play-piercing the complexity
of the patently condemned
who race to be first
to wave invisible limbs
and ward off the eyes
whose pupils are coyotes
lacquered with lies. brilliant alliteration and imagery.
Inside the Bone Char 
a pink neon saloon 
built out of blood-stains
of twilight and sin 
Candyman is relapsing
his face is collapsing
into four aces and a grin.
Outside in the street
his bullet-faced son
Cotton-eyed Joe 
traces hearts in the sand
and counts out the rings
of detonations and gin.
Candy and Joe run things
as they care to displease, 
keeping an elephant in the brothel
ant-hills up their sleeves.
Feral hogs keep the peace love the irony here
church hymns sound like static
and the town’s only whore 
is one-eyed but not tragic.
Though morse code is banned
the telegraph hums
at a scorpion’s command
and it’s a favorite abode
for hangmen to gather
wearing fezzes and robes
they dance the Hereafter.
If you want to tune in
to this alchemical age
sharpen your lips
and curl up your rage.
Smoke it or snuff it,
it’s all up to you
but the cemetery is off-limits
to all but the few
for a recipe God only knew
special ingredients
for slumgullion stew.

Tqb,

Your surreal, nightmarish realm of "The Tranquility Base" is adjacent to here....it reminds me of a local author, Barry Hannah.....who was a writer-in-residence at Ole Miss in Oxford, MS, home to William Faulkner. The grotesques, the subjects in your work, are at once intriguing and horrifying. What seems to be underscored is not "what happens" as much as a kaleidoscope into the human condition. More of a critique later. I thoroughly enjoyed this.

---

In the town of Perplexity
lightning creates thirst
play-piercing the complexity
of the patently condemned
who race to be first
to wave invisible limbs
and ward off the eyes
whose pupils are coyotes
lacquered with lies. 
Inside the Bone Char 
a pink neon saloon 
built out of blood-stains
of twilight and sin 
Candyman is relapsing
his face is collapsing
into four aces and a grin.
Outside in the street
his bullet-faced son
Cotton-eyed Joe 
traces hearts in the sand
and counts out the rings
of detonations and gin.
Candy and Joe run things
as they care to displease, 
keeping an elephant in the brothel
ant-hills up their sleeves.
Feral hogs keep the peace
church hymns sound like static
and the town’s only whore 
is one-eyed but not tragic.
Though morse code is banned
the telegraph hums
at a scorpion’s command
and it’s a favorite abode
for hangmen to gather
wearing fezzes and robes
they dance the Hereafter.
If you want to tune in
to this alchemical age
sharpen your lips
and curl up your rage.
Smoke it or snuff it,
it’s all up to you
but the cemetery is off-limits
to all but the few
for a recipe God only knew
special ingredients
for slumgullion stew.

I must admit, the title is lost on me, thus needs to be illuminated. While the poem is striking upon first-read, afterwards it feels like the devices employed are driving the poem towards a premature and rather empty conclusion. "They dance the Hereafter" seems thematic to the whole but is again, devoid of meaning perhaps as a result of your characters being rather flat. They need more attention. To be sure, the language and flow are engaging. but I need more.....