back to the Black Table

The Dirt Caked Egyptian

Little Egyptian Prince
with the brown skin
and elongated nose
that is full of bushy black hair.

Won't you fondle beneath my jeans?

Little Egyptian Prince,
dark like the sunshine
in an Alaskan summer
or the buttocks
of a new negro baby.

Won't you fondle beneath my jeans?

Little Egyptian Prince
with your magnificent haddock odor
and dirty shins.

Won't you fondle beneath my jeans?

The Day My Nana Died

Nana, lady of wrinkled meat
and small knuckles
won't you let me scrub your feet once more

before the dark!

She dies.
Like a crow caught under chugga-chugga railroad.

She dies.

Like the small, dashing infantry ready to fight.

She dies.

Like the muskrat trapped in the suburban cellar well.

Before the dark!

She dies.
bye nana.

The Cackling Farmer from Nigeria

Oh, the sturdy brown-skinned man
digging in the mud like a fiery muskrat.

It's much too hot
for your clothes.

Disrobe, negro! Disrobe!

There are plenty of mud huts to construct
but they can be done without your clothes.

Disrobe, negro! Disrobe!

Show off the striated calves, the thigh muscles,
Sleek and hard, like giant potatoes
in sacks of soft brown skin.

Disrobe, negro! Disrobe!

The sun is hot. Enjoy it.
Put the shovel down.
it down.

The New Native Americans

Where have all the redskinned ladies gone?

They have been humped by white men
with linen pants and left to wander
the plains for lamb meat and old stew.

Where have all the redskinned men gone?

They have been drinking from cisterns made of clay
and wiping hot brows with oily rags left by the Mexicans.

Where have all the redskinned babies gone?

They have been eaten by young white women
with large thighs and bosoms
that rest in silk dresses.

Redskinned America eaten by horny white men.


The Wilting Breast

Oh, wrinkled breast
like mother's, only browner
and more pointy in the nipple.

Where has your liquid gone?

Have the goats suckled the breast too long?

Do not let the goats betray you!

Pilgrim's Play

Hey, Pilgrim!

Yeah, you! Pilgrim!

Take down the turkey
so it can be shot
and slaughtered for us to eat.

Hey, Pilgrim!
Yeah, you! Pilgrim!

Gather up the Mexicans and shoot them down.

It's time to eat!

Hey, Pilgrim!

Yeah, you! Pilgrim!

The women are hungry
feed them your cock
and shoot them down

It's time to eat!

Hey, Pilgrim!

Yeah, you! Pilgrim!

The animals are angry
put them to sleep


No, not you!
The animals!


Hey, Pilgrim!

The Acrobat's Muff

She swings,
like a panther
from the vines of passion
trickling down my back
like sweat from gorilla nutsacks

and tiny candles
lit her way
as she passed me on the sidewalk
and swung high above
like the trapeze lady
she was.

Two Tiny Pintos

Ride the bitch, Poncho!

Ride the bitch!

She is not a hombrero,
but she is my ruca,
le mazerne si baca!

For all of the ways, you torture me
the cars
the money
the women
the ojos y langostas.

Find it in your heart to give me the keys.

Just once, before the rain prevents us from seeing
the carnival at dawn.

The Lilac Monastery

Would you, lady, lick me like a honeybee does a flower's

Or can you understand
the magnitude of our love?

Why? Why do you hurt me so and gallavant with Chico?

Chico! Put him in the toaster, Chico!
Put him in the toaster!

The lilacs are dying.

Not again. Chico. No.

The Salivating Truth

Fuck me, you Mexican.
Fuck me.
Fuck me like a tortured tit caught in a mouse trap.

Fuck me, you Mexican.
Fuck me.
Fuck me like a siamese monkey left in the rain.

Fuck me, you Mexican. Fuck me.
Fuck me like the siren's wail and the sheep's anus.

Alone. With you. I drip.

Feldspar, My Friend

Little rock.

Little, little rock.

Gray like mom-mom's groin hair.

Little rock. Little, little rock.

Hard like a miraculous third-grade erection.

Little rock. Little, little rock.

Smooth like a Jamaican's flank.

Little rock. Little, little rock.

Love me.
Love me like the injured pigeon my brother, Jo-Jo,

cared for when its wing
became trapped in the dumbwaiter
on 32 St.

Love me, Feldspar.
Love me.

Little rock. Little, little rock.

Love Me!

The Chinese Back Rub

Oh, the Orientals,
they are so crafty
and small
yet they do
amazing work
with their little
hands and their
round faces

Kaichi-Li rubs me
with all of the oils
that are inside
her "magic box"
and flips me
over and starts
to rub my
hot parts.

I say,
no, no,no
I just want a
back rub


she said.

no,no, no

I just want a nice


She splashed
some peanut oil
on my hot parts
and rubbed
it vigorously
some hairs
and skin
fell to
the floor
like dead


no, no, no

Just a back rub, please.

I grabbed a pot and smacked
her on the head
and she fell backwards
like a drunk beaver
and ran away.

just a back rub, please.

just a back rub.

The Leafy Ball

Oh, brown cracklin' leaves
of autumn splendor
wrapped around thighs
like a kitten on string.

Won't you love my strong shoulders?
My black hands?
My pointy dong?

Regardless, you'll still wipe the sweat off my brow,
like a horny midshipmen on furlough.

Won't you love my strong shoulders?
My black hands?
My pointy dong?

Slip it in. Let's ride!

The Barnyard Cache

Pigs in the wheelhouse
start sloppin' with
the windmills blowin' east
as Big George
takes his anger
out on the two Hungarian seamstresses
milking goats
while the morning dew covers their face.

Big George unfurls
a snake from his overalls
that is the size of a large rabid, squirrel
unleashed from the black ass of a viking farmhand.

he pulls the trigger.

the first seamstress is startled.
she runs away.

the second seamstress just lays down
and takes it softly in the pokey
while the horses eat hay.

Joystick Humpin'

Oh, little brown sand monkey
who sells me toys
at Radioshack
would you look in the back for my games?
Oh, the blip and bloops
those games make
reminds of the sound
of lark droppings
in a silver pail
on a Sunday's wintry morn.
I would like to shove the joystick
up that Mexican's open, dark hole,
so everybody who uses the stick will sniff it
and vomit stuff


Everybody loves the joystick humpin'.


Bombs Away!

The mud cakes from
my friend's ass
ran off her chest
as the PS2
flipped on and off.


She recoiled
as more mud cakes
erupted and hit the side of the bed.

and then some hit my friend Ken.

and the PS2 flipped on and off.

On and off.


The Life of The Greek Busboy

As the waitress sauntered away
from the cold station
carrying trays of bloody fish,
and the first days of menstruation
sloshed around underneath her apron
it smelled like a skunk had been raped from behind
in the kitchen.

Ah, the sweet, sweet sounds of the vagina's song...

Oh, to be a tiny vessel sailing in that bloody sea!
I must wait no more.

I need that sweet, sweet song.


I must swim.
Swim, like the slippery Puerto Rican line cook
who quit two days ago
and fled for the endless summers
and the tan, tan women.
I must swim.

Warm Hugs From the Chinese Cleaning Lady

Oh, the slant-eyed maiden
who washes my dirty brown sheets
and makes rice pu-pu trays
for my rich friends and relatives
takes her time,
as she is violated by Mr.Troy in the washroom.

She uses a sneaky kung-fu wrist maneuver
to defend herself.

But Troy, is resilient.

I'll snap you like a pea, you round-faced demon!
I'll snap you like a pea!

he yells, while unzipping his trousers.

She yells back.

or something like that.

But she resists.

Mr. Troy took her near the sink
and left an awkward stain on her back
as she served
the new rice dish to us
last Thursday.

Dusty Balls

Oh, these balls,
these dusty balls,
that bounce around
my hot shorts like
hen eggs
in boiling water.

Days like these
I long to curl
behind the Greek leather
arm chair crafted by
the smelly carpenters from
Crete who barely washed themselves
even after long days
of growing grapes, dancing,
and doing other Greek things.

Oh, these balls,
these dusty balls,
I've neglected to
give them the morning
soak and now must suffer
and watch them bake
in the sun like
the turnips planted by
the brown people in chains.

Oh, these balls,
these dusty balls.

Produce Monkeys

Oh, these warm, placcid
nights of eggplant love
and Italian summers...

I notice Jajuan lifting his apron
and dropping his brown sack
near the carrots.

He sprays the onions
(for some reason)
then adjusts and starts gyrating
near the winter radish.

He thrusts like a hungry bison.


he yells.


He is raping the cabbage.


The celery is startled.

Yet, I egg him on---

Who's pumpin'?

I'm pumpin'!

and he went harder.

Who's pumpin'?

I'm pumpin'!

and the kale hit the floor.

I'm pumpin'!

I'm pumpin'!

Go, Jajuan.


Lovesick Sack Burst

Oh, how I long to
choke on the soft
vulva that's been
tickled by the
Indian man
who smells like
dead goats.

I wish for
and naan bread
with equal fervor.

But, I'm dead in the shorts.

Wake up the cock!

I've strapped on a
large, wet pole
with the hopes of
your sweet, sweet mess.

Wake up the cock!

Please let me
clean your clam
with my large thumb.

Wake up the cock!

Your areola is brown,
the color of my friend Musrat,
yet, my log won't roll
in the brackish sea,
inside your lady cave.

I'm dead in the shorts. there is rain everywhere.

Her Whistlin' Muff

The lady walks
like a panther
all taut and tight
yet her giant
clitoris hangs
like a vine.

But, oh the
spicy scent of her
inner thighs, is enough
to make a man want
to rub something

I wish to ravage her
and hang from the slippery vine.

I'll swing on it,
like a monkey who has lost his cock.


I'll swing on it,
like a wiry Puerto Rican eluding the police.


I'll swing on it,
like the red, red Navajo.


If only I could smell,
the intoxicating sense
of her vast vagina garden
once more.


Lover's Lament (Hoo, Lady!)

Oh, to stroke brown
thighs atop a
snowy river bank
with one hand
in the pants
of a woman
named Inez.

Her warmth without
the belt buckle
makes my
belly gurgle
and my zipper

Hoo, Lady!

She rubbed me
like a Mexican
lamp, removing
the dirt from
underneath my fingernails
with her soft tongue.

Hoo, Lady!

Shall I pounce?

Shall I pounce like
the jungle monkey
throwing itself
on top of the
rotten mangos?

I will! I will pounce!

Hoo Lady!
Hoo Lady!

She's gone. Why?

And I'm left with wet pants
and sweaty palms.

Hoo lady.

Porch Monkey Rasslin'

Oh, ye brown boys
with the chiseled abs
and giant penises.

Would you stop horsing around?

No more headlocks, Andre!

No more suplexes, Lamar!

No more dropkicks, Tyson!

With their hot backs smacking
the woodpile and knocking over
the dim lanterns--

chaos ensued.

No more!

Those fellas need to get a job, she said.

Right. Alone. Darkness.