Ornate in its oblique nest, like Ornette's
lofty funk/scapes, Jayne's 4th floor walk-
up earth-whiled into archive, studio, sanctum,
repast, poem: sister-threads winding festivals &
funerals through joyful/elegiac mazes: exiting thru
penises & pearl tongues of artful exults,
in magic/reel yawps of yari yari . . .
Now, Jayne's axe-bright tomes, flashin &
spittin torrent thru turrets of her fecund
decades, grieve & sculpt a pell mel/l,
you know, of AIDS, female spill/age,
drug gorge/s, walking-dead peeps, impish pimples
on a carcass dressed up in money . . .
Written by Eugene B. Redmond
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