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The Conquest of Grass
They roll out of a truck riding growling orange machines steered with two sticks like the reins of a team of horses, more horsepower and noise than the simpler mowers they replaced, once pushed by dads or hired kids. They come with screaming air cannons strapped to bodies armored against their own noise and choking… Continue reading
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Easter Hangover Monday
It’s Easter Hangover Monday, that peculiar New Orleans holiday when nothing is accomplished except perhaps some half-priced drug store chocolate consumed in the car. Bunny ears and flower crowns wilted on the television couch not watching the quiet green parade of a golftournament strictly for the green and trees and lagoon blue, that soft ambience… Continue reading
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I’m Being Haunted by a Moon Shadow
A poem from last fall I started to but never shared here Continue reading
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What Comes Next
I think the progression from Adonai deciding to break with the other Levantine gods in his tribe and end child sacrifice with Abraham, through the genocidal conversion of Northern Europe and much of the rest of the non-Asian world to Christianity, culminating in a genocidal slaughter of Islamic children by modern Likud Israel funded by… Continue reading
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Eating Cookies in America
Eating cookies while readingTrout Fishing in America They are molasses forwardwith a crisp ginger finish like driving from cane countryback home to New Orleans Continue reading
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Doleful Histories
Why fetishize one manI don’t care who hisabsent father might bewhen the world is litteredwith the bodies of so manysons mothers daughtersmurdered in that man’s name Continue reading
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The Middle East
Middle of what? The eurocentric “West?” West of what? The East in the Middle of the West is how you get confused boundaries and their inevitable wars. At least the Romans arranged their subject people rationally. Example: Palestine. When Rome merged with the Germanic world things got weird. They took the Levantine game of chess… Continue reading
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East of the End of the World
An hour east of the End of the World sign somewhere just inside Delacroix a city is vanishing into America, dissolving wholesale in a Starbucks blender, as if buried in the contaminated sediment of The River; a Las Vegas scale, prime-time vanishing act in which a city is transformed into a waterfront Disney attraction, minus… Continue reading
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Bob Kaufman
One exception to my suspicion of full on surrealism is Bob Kaufman. Postwar atomic automaton America could not be viewed straight on like the industrial films of 1960s early morning television. It required hallucinatory ViewMaster snapshots to portray its twisted Twilight Zone reality. Imagine this was the only possible approach. Unlike Ginsburg’s angelic screeds like… Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 