A Letter From Hammertown



Dear -------

If it's not my fault reggaeton
ain't catching on
with the surf & sandalwood set--
these "sleeve notes"
as you call them
are still all that
keep me from following
Sunny Boy & Red River
over Pellagra Falls--
ok so never the chef nor the entrepeneur
but not the guy in a leather apron
with a bolt-gun either,
delivering up discrimination
at the end of a sticky fork
& if the molasses taste of anger
is likewise as brittle
when it cools off
as a guinea palmed to a retainer
at the moment of yearly eye contact
so too the pronouncements
of this Brazen Head
can pass in a dark room
for both nourishment
& judgement.