4TH OF JULY SPECIAL

(after Albert Saijo)


HEARTBEAT AT SIX WEEKS

PLAY WIN EAT REPEAT

THERE IS PROOF FOR GOD

FLASH FLOOD WARNINGS ALL OVER BERNALILLO COUNTY

AND A CINEPLEX FOR EVERY SUBURB OF EVERY SUBURB


SPEED TWEAKED JALOPY CARAVANS

ATTEMPT TO CATCH VIEW FROM

PAN-AMERICAN HIGHWAY ROBBERY

WITH THE WIDEST ARRAY OF CHOICES

FOR THE MOST DISCERNING OF SHOPPERS


SPEAK EASY COULD LOSE LICENSE

MORE PYRO 4 LESS IN MORIARTY

WOMAN DIES IN KAYAKING ACCIDENT ON RIO GRANDE

RADIOACTIVE TRUCK ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL

THERE ARE FOUR WAYS OUT BUT THREE ARE BLOCKED INDEFINITELY


REPENT

THE END IS NEAR

4TH OF JULY SPECIAL

UP TO 50% OFF

ONE DAY ONLY

Intern


after the 4 AM shift

the tips are few, but deliberate

heavy-lidded are the hands

of clocks distraught

with measure


sixteen hours paid with time

and the privilege to be a part

of some thing greater

than myself


21st century nose 

to the grindstone of public

assistance showered

with carborundum grit


four shakes of the lamb’s tail

is all it takes for the shade’s return

to this back lot 

hot with latitude


this is a falconing madness

peered through Madrone flowers

from the heat of the grass

eye level with squirrels


a sigh only Ponderosa could muster

this low sun

after the work

is done

Bio: Robbie Sugg

I was born and raised in the settlements surrounding San Francisco Bay: I spent my early childhood in a commune before being decamped to the further suburbs. I learned street smarts on the streets of San Francisco on the gritty sidewalks surrounding the Supreme Court and the fortress of the Federal Building, and in residency hotels where I first imbibed drugs and began having sex with other men. I was taken under the wing of poets in North Beach and on Bernal Hill, where I met my life companion, who helped to hone my word and my ear. After years in rooming houses and public housing projects in neighborhoods where Spanish and Vietnamese are the primary languages, we packed up for Albuquerque, New Mexico, where I would study with painters and printers and art historians. Now we live in a box made of wood and stucco in the shadow of the Sandia Mountains, painting, writing, collaging, trying to keep flowers alive. The cacti are doing just fine.