radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air

sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets

energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits

the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life

transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge

“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual  
distinguished air

“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice

“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”

the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias

“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.

was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss?  No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”

Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye

“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good

El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”

Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”

fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls

Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo




Oakland
3/30/13
jbm

(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.

ATYPICAL GAY GUY

I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.

I do love my show tunes
And of course Miss Babs
And I do put a bit of product
In my hair, just a few dabs.
I don’t haunt the health clubs
Flexing on the big machines
Trying to bring to vapors
Our local workout queens.

I do like to cook a little bit
But, my house is usually a mess.
I don’t like angora sweaters
And would never wear a dress.
You couldn’t really peg me
By the way I usually walk.
I don’t lisp or squeal, so
It’s a manly way I talk.

I do cruise quite normally
When hot guys walk by me.
But, I try my best to do so
Undetected, and slyly.
My taste in men does not
Run to muscled guys.
When I see someone pass
I first look at his eyes.

It’s hard to get me into bed,
I am really rather choosy.
I don’t do promiscuity,
Not a backdoor loosey-goosey.
So don’t go giving birthday gifts
Of dildoes and leather goods.
You won’t find me in costumes
Like rubber and leather hoods.


I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.

Brent Kincaid
1/27/2015

In you lies the grace to inspire, to make others grow.
You also have the fire that makes God's words glow.
You never seem to tire to share all that you know,
You want all before the retire, to think about cash flow.
You find time in life's quagmire to lift up every soul,
You are blessed, equipped and empowered,  
I know because God says so!

A little bit of hash aint no trash
Mother needs that little yellow pill to keep her still
L. S.D it just doesn't agree
Father works so hard, I find it sad
Purple heart, not a bad start
Sister’s going to complain, boyfriend didn’t turn up again
Tonight it must be speed, such greed
Mothers going to bed, she’s going to rest her head
I’ll try *******, it sends me insane
Fathers going to say, well son, how was it today
I’ll smoke some grass, let life pass
My sisters has to say, you don’t look to well these days
Well, it looks like it must be Babs
Especially now I'm sad
Mother’s dying, Father’s crying, Sister’s ill
I think it must be the little yellow pill.

I describe my baboon as baboon-shaped. Her name's Babs, which is
short for baboon. Sunday I pushed her to the library where we were
given a library balloon. It had snot on it, the balloon, because the li-
brarian had the Shanghai flu. I'll take my free-book-borrowing busi-
ness to Havana, Cuba, where snotty librarians are chippy chipper &
well & they never trim their dry quims & they're not bound for hell.

I describe my baboon as baboon-shaped. Her name's Babs, which is
short for baboon. Sunday I pushed her to the library where we were
given a library balloon. It had snot on it, the balloon, because the li-
brarian had the Shanghai flu. I'll take my free-book-borrowing busi-
ness to Havana, Cuba, where snotty librarians are chippy chipper &
well & they never trim their dry quims & they're not bound for hell.

Wax on our fingertips,
Glitter on your cheeks.

What's it like to be you?

We were in a cardboard box in the backyard,
In between the autumn leaves

The smell of construction paper
And sticks of glue.

I wondered alone,
What's it like to be you?

It's pink and it's blue.

Your bones are so slight,
And mine are just plain.

At first an aversion
Now the spike of my brain.

I don't know why I want to kiss you,
I just do.

But what's it like to be you?

Passions thrummed inside my veins
One of trillions wondering things
Then suddenly you culminate
And like a feather you float within my fate
Lost in my pupils, they dilate.

And suddenly, I know what it's like to be you.

I put on the cat ears and do my thing.

I cut my skin,
I show up late.

I killed myself for Babs and Kate.

The stuttered monologuing State.

The emo kid without a shape
My personality, obliviate
The 29 year old I macerate

That's okay, I hate this poem,
That's okay
I hate this poem
That's okay
I hate this poem
That's okay
That's okay

That'******>

I describe my baboon as baboon-shaped. Her name's Babs, which is
short for baboon. Sunday I pushed her to the library where we were
given a library balloon. It had snot on it, the balloon, because the li-
brarian had the Shanghai flu. I'll take my free-book-borrowing busi-
ness to Havana, Cuba, where snotty librarians are chippy chipper &
well & they never trim their dry quims & they're not bound for hell.

ᴀ ʀᴜꜱʜ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴅᴏʀᴘʜɪɴꜱ
Hallelujah! I will hang on and you will hang on (& we will hang on)  by the hairs of our chinny-chin chins, if only to experience the "orgasmical"~ "climaxical" ~ "orgiastical" rush of endorphins upon learning of the excruciatingly-prolonged suffering of every woogie-******* reprobate who ever ******* us over, AMEN!