Archive for the ‘David S. Pointer’ Category

By David S. Pointer

Chicago Red became Fred Sanford
finally Redd Foxx on the other end
of my MP radio call
pub management at the Chesty Puller
club feared for the comedian’s safety

as Redd honed in on a stageside audience
member-spitting him out like clown candy
tongue holding the man down better than
yard tool tongs at a shooting gallery as the
other audience Marines spewed up laughter

ole Redd burning on like a bulldog ashtray

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By David S. Pointer

The way Mekong Delta blues
whiskey ignites the projector

The way the sniper knows
the nape of her unslit neck

The way water scorpions
scram w/o official direction

The way a hometown kid wears
a desert death box home


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