ALAN BRITT - POEMS

Prefering to "lean and loafe at his ease," Alan Britt is troubled by the corruption and ambivalence that permeates the Great Experiment, so politically speaking he has started the Commonsense Party, which ironically to some sounds radical. He believes the US should stop invading other countries to relieve them of their natural resources including tin, copper, bananas, diamonds, and oil, also that it’s time to eliminate corporate entitlements and reduce military spending in order to properly educate its citizenry, thereby reducing crime and strengthening the populace in the manner that the Constitution envisioned. He is quite fond of animals both wild and domestic and supports prosecuting animal abusers. As a member of PETA, he is disgusted by factory farming and decorative fur.


ALAN BRITT: Library of Congress Interview:
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/media/avfiles/poet-poem-alan-britt.mp3

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HARRY NILSSON SINGS THE BEATLES
​

​Mucho mungo, but wait, these rattlesnake storm clouds rumbling like bison over present day Albuquerque. Not that present day Albuquerque needs assistance, but mangoes fell like baby alligators from the mangroves inhaled by Great Aunts one month before. Not that Albuquerque needs assistance, I'm saying, but just as a carnival organ ignites porcelain white stallions with golden bridles swirling space time continuum around me like lonely quarks at a pie eating contest, blueberry fragments plucked for months from the boiled skin of logic, leaning forward on a Black Forest cane, asymmetric, but leaning with shrapnel blue map of earth tacked to the walls of a 1940s lighthouse blinking domino waves, the only waves Harry ever knew.
 

​EVERYBODY KNOWS
 
(For George Costanza)
 

​Time held on until time rusted.
 
Mule hooves, or burro, regarding your canon,
while Texas brands scald the foreheads
of 7 families scrambling for continents
worth scrambling for, & we thought
Occupy Wall Street was a plastic figurine
in a Happy Meal®.
 
Shame on us.
 
Slugs move faster than antidepressants.
 
Welcome to the machine.
 
May your mortgage mature & your guzzler
breech 200K before breaking the bank.
 
& may your housekeeper & mine refrain
from that insane tucking. Turns out I'm
a no-tuck kind of guy.
 
 

REALITY, THE SPEED OF LIGHT
​

​Moth.
 
Oh, you were thinking button?
 
Okay, say it is button.
 
 
 
 

WHITE RUBBER
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​White rubber, Black Forest cane tapping Venus & Mercury, for a change,
sending debris all the way to dirt floors of the Old Testament. Nothing
surprises us, anymore; nothing even comes close↔nothing I tell you but
that white rubber leaning on a Black Forest cane tapping, tapping for the
blind <<<<―—>>>> She arose, hair tinted steel blue inside an iron
furnace, shoulders like tortured ashes as her aquamarine toenails upset
anxious angels scheming new ways to win their wings.