Posted in David S. Pointer on September 12, 2013| Leave a Comment »
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
Posted in David S. Pointer on May 28, 2010| 1 Comment »
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
unfilmed
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Clutching at Straws 