( Untitled / 5 )

smell of morning funnel dough
pops in black oil & cotton
webs spin pink — blue
eleven AM tables saved for noon

while bored stomachs flex
w/ emptiness — in tune w/
gull shrieks —————— Kill! Kill! Kill!

Thus goes everyone to the world
but I & I am sunburnt & I will sit
in a corner and cry salt
tears in the face of dead hopes, PA
girls on beaches broad & breakers
sing songs of relaxation

No such peace. No clean fun —
———————— Only night-worn kids in black
———————— chapped w/ brine
———————— bleary eyed & out of smokes

Originally published in Crass Songs of Sand & Brine, Habenicht Press, 2010.

© 2017 Micah Robbins

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( Untitled / 4 )

Too early for PA girls & I’m
bored watching bloated bodies
gather outside Mac & Manco’s
demanding accommodation
demanding to be fed—

rude moms herd
pre-teens stiff w/
salt to their meal:
eleven AM — tables
saved for noon

Patience is for poltroons
For fools! For locals!

& I’m bored & I spot pubis
spring lazy elastic, SPF
finger licks across the back,
gummy gull shit sticks to hair—

Originally published in Crass Songs of Sand & Brine, Habenicht Press, 2010.

© 2017 Micah Robbins

( Untitled / 3 )

We are the kids in black — night-worn
hangers-on tired and out of smokes
piss wasted — dead in the eye

watching shubie legs pump rusted peddles
rattle hoary boards as they pass
the pavilion — ours taken in the night

from a mass of gulls, a fight to sync
the call —- Kill! Kill! Kill! —- our space
to inhabit, to force weary eyes away

from the sea to the bay, the smell of
dead fish & crab-crawled mud
$12 little necks — $12 wine

Originally published in Crass Songs of Sand & Brine, Habenicht Press, 2010.

© 2017 Micah Robbins

 

( Untitled / 2 )

The tide is high & it’s time for punk rock
girls & 40oz Steel Reserve passed round
the pavilion deep in stench, deep in the bay
rot rising off the sea, rising toward kids
in black who sing crass songs, send
PA daughters home drunk — MD 20/20
& old school licks fluid on the tongue

———————————————–Yes brother,
the hour’s ripe to shout tunes
in defense of rebellion & youth dead
against summers spent lost among ships
cut off from camp, alone in the dead rush
of pale faces & out-of-state plates—

Originally published in Crass Songs of Sand & Brine, Habenicht Press, 2010.

© 2017 Micah Robbins

 

( Untitled / 1 )

draw of summer down the shore
funnel cake pops in stale oil &
the gasp of a vast sucking ocean
weed clogged & full of pale jelly
fish pulsing on the lip of the world
where Pennsylvania girls sleep
drunk in the sand tempting sun
stroke & dune-grass gnats, black
mass of gulls scream Kill! Kill! Kill!

Originally published in Crass Songs of Sand & Brine, Habenicht Press, 2010.

© 2017 Micah Robbins