HUSTLE AND BLOW by Brett Evans


The fuel of suffering

Tanks in the mardi gras fountain
look cool in a war book
sort of way, but make me flash
on the flood car regatta
when New Orleans was an all-wrong cocktail

I’m writing this with a Super Bowl pen
Christie left on the counter
and drying off with
Cissy’s Saints towel
and wondering whether Treme will end
on St. Joseph’s day

beside a bowl of Chris-made
Viet at the Love Lost Lounge
My friends are many
enemy oil is everywhere
about us

And another tee from the gallows humor superstore
New Orleans
The One That Gets It
somehow doesn’t sop shit

sister of disaster tragedy doberge fuss
holding on for dear life
We just want this Way
left alone


Flower in the rifle barrel
Office under avalanche
Rifles fire back
A lot of people still have nice tits
but the species are leaving us

to our pet plastics, our grounded space ships
opting for fur or feather heaven
rather than hanging
on the brutal movement
hands on the Doomsday Clock

Hey you got your bayonet in my beignet
Skandi Neptune at the Bottom of the Gulf
someone forgot how much we’re made of agua
next they’ll think we can hang the sun
a new one
if it goes out

A dozen
shrimp on ice
at Rouse’s are the last supper
I’m drive-by
waving to

This is just the beginning
of another fucking opus
I’ve been forced to write
instead of hanging out
with the Russians by the pool


[Mariana remix]

About Us

We just want this way left alone

Holding on for dear life
Sister of disaster young in fun
Olden fuss

Somehow that doesn’t stop shit
The one
That gets

New Orleans

And another tea from the gallows

Enemy, Oil is everywhere
My friends are many

Love lost at the Viet lounge
Beside a bowl of Christ

Drying off with Cissy’s Saints towel
Only fuels our suffering

Tanks in the Mardi Gras fountain
Look cool in a war book
Sort of way, but make me flash
On the flood car regatta
When New Orleans was an all-wrong

And wondering whether Treme will end

Mariana Ruiz June 13 at 1:27pm



Poet Brett Evans lives in the Bayou St. John neighborhood of New Orleans. This bayou, which runs into the middle of the city, is home to nutrias, pelicans, and flying fish, and was a Native American trail and portage.  New Orleans is made of water. Its streets are boat decks that dry and we walk them until we get rained on with more water and mimosa blossoms.

The theme of the 1984 World’s Fair in New Orleans was water as the source of all life. Huh. Poetry at times like this seems to be a paper bullet flying at a toxic giant — but we simply must. We must for the reasons we know: awareness, catharsis. And then we load the tool basket and head down to the Barataria-Terrebonne National Estuary Program and pitch in some more with our hands.


Brett Evans is the author of Slosh Models (Factory School, 2009). and Ready-to-Eat Individual [with Frank Sherlock] (2006, Lavender Ink Press) and After School Session with Brett Evans (Buck Downs Books/subpress, 2001). He is a founding member of the carnival microkrewe ‘tit-Rex.

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