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One day it was boring / to be alive.
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My poems have appeared in four different publications; three have died shortly after they ran my stuff. Coincidence, or something more sinister?
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People Who Go to Poems for Truth
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Six months later, she was teaching theology / to refugees from est.
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But here it was, Friday afternoon with Deborah checking MySpace for interesting bulletins or messages before she made some weekend plans, finding a blog from Fred posted that same morning with two simple sentences.
"I know. I've known for a long time.
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Mint upon my palate, I rub sleep infused eyes and crawl under the covers. Oh blessed sleep, please descend upon this body and transverse this fatigue. Eyes closed, bring a wavering blackness upon subtle lids. The conversation begins…
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we name invasive species,
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hookers are better educated these days
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We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .
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1675 7 7
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A new philosophy stirs in its surgery.
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I would fly drones with hydrochloric acid sprays/
over their squadrons and watch the disfigurement/
begin. I love disfigurement...
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They look like giant golden raindrops, or flying saucers, or peculiar fish out of their element
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The next week, she sends a small white box in the mail / with tissue paper, a ceramic mold the color of bleached bone—
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"Every single thing ... " Hunk Hokum pronounced from the stage, flexing his muscles and prancing around in his red pseudo-loincloth, "has been totally scripted ... and ... every action ... has been ... preplanned-out ... in advance!"
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It is a hot August night — the same kind you remember from that summer after high school graduation. A cool breeze blows in off the ocean, sweeping across the boardwalk just hard enough to dry the …
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jaws blossoming with drool,/ a captured wolf slinks low/ across the crowded land/ for that most tender lamb/ to catch it by surprise.
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Mrs. L. was sitting on a love seat in her nightgown. She was sitting in a man’s lap....
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1674 2 0
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On Martini Business Nights the rules of decorum were written by Esquire or Playboy.The red bar-side book divulges the secrets brewed with ice, libation and a sleek chrome shaker, because its all about the accoutrement, and technique. Mr Boston said that, NOT James Bond. If…
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rockstar, moviestar, literary supernova – burning out before all the planets are declassified.
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Its intelligence won’t be/
diminished when you take/
a bone saw to its cranium
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We are young
That’s all we’ve got
We take drugs
We smoke pot
You got mugged
And I got shot
We are young
That’s all we’ve got
I want you to love me like it’s midnight
Midnight, midnight
Yeah, your mama wants you home
But she knows
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Sleep left him like a fragmenting illusion. Suddenly, he was awake, like something pressing but fleeting had awoken him. Once awake, though, all he had was silence and stillness. His pulse quickened, his…
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TV and power cord valorized in dust,/
wires and digital guts unimpaired, I’d guess . . .
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They meant no harm when they flooded farms in its swirls and eddies
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* Dedicated to Bernie MaddoffThere was a long line at the men's room.You know,when men reach a certain age,there is an urgencyto their frequent trips.So I saw an opportunityI said:" I know Bernie I can get you in.""Really?," they saidbut I played it coy"It ain't easyBernie…
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My sister / craves raisons
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That contraption he’d invited her to pedal, somebody oughta market one of those. The closer you got the harder it got, and her feet kept slipping off the pedals. It was maddening.
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The Rapture comes and goes unannounced in carbonated soda bubbles spicing the air.
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Another new spring and the leaves
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we're not at war / with the world. We have papers.
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