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I am the Poet Laureate of my bedroom
I am the Poet Laureate of 6065 Chabot Road, Jokeland
I am the Poet Laureate of the Loser Café
I have wind in my shoes if not my hair
I am the Poet Laureate of Karmic Impulses
Of tabloids and gossip
I am
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One/
can’t always trust the eye and ear//
in such matters but what can one do?/
Mistakes will be made.
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No pain is private. How can it be?
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The butterscotch on that painting makes me want to lick the canvas.
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I've never liked kind eyes;I prefer drive.Or fire.And when a woman's eyes are described as "doe,"I hear "dumb."Like an animal.
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When the storm broke, my late aunt's dog
fetched five favourite bones from his corner, and arranged a crude protective circle.
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Her voice gets screechy as she talks of the boy he was caught fondling in the bathroom of a bowling alley. The worst part: the dumb schmuck doesn’t even bowl.
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Is any person is worthy of the kind of ache?
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Inspired by my last writers' workshop, where encouragement is key.
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I assemble myself daily//
from the ready-mades/
of a fast talking world,
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Tell me how magnificent my mind is
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Darkness dangles like bats in a mouth of cabbage. I call this necromancy. But it doesn’t work. No dead people appear. Just Bob Dylan on a horse.
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When you finally arrive,
when you are bounced from Bingo
for calling out too many false Bingos,
may the mothers be there
to lift the children
off your soul.
May you see the fiery red word Psychic
above the doorway
underneath the green
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—Have you ever fired a gun?
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There's something in the space youare tonight that's for me asweet presence in my own life,and so like any othercoward I write a poemin vain. It will never beseen as itself by you, butpossibly be mistakenfor an open window. Somewill definitely call itfurniture, some will…
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When daybreak comes, it falls a pall pást mé, For it descends too soon for woken sight to see A shade of any gladness in its dew's first blisters: All my dreams of daylight are in darkling whispers Of…
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my loosening grip on time.
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Tell me how beautiful I am and I'll dance for you Tell me how much you love my smile and I'll kiss you softly Paint a picture of me and I will lie still Let me see your smile and watch me exhale Rock me back and forth and my eyes close I see rocky shores and…
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Meeting the past an inevitable outcome (this inside a future fortune cookie). Shame pierces her like a sudden migraine.
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Near dusk today a car backfired on the street beneath my office window
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That black hole isn't really a hole.
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We suffer//
the one agony only- of having no longer/
any physical effect nor way to speak/
of what we watch to those we watch.
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over much howling of poetry and things that act as if they were dying
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What’s your favorite emotion? Mine is ripping the sky apart and standing on a star outside of time.
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If I start getting rambunctious, put me in a cab.
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Albertine had never loved Agnés. Oh! She had liked her very much. Especially her wit, the skin at the nape of her neck, even the two freckles on her arse that would bloom when licked.
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I was sitting at the barFeeling the blues after workDrinking my 64 0z pitcherOf beerBody hurting all overAnd this kid begins to talk to meAbout how drinking is killing myBrain cellsAnd of course i have heard thisShit all beforeYet i act dumb all the sameLike really? I did…
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A man who is sexually attracted to playground equipment was recently banned from “any location with a slide” after being caught having sex with one. Christopher Johnson, 46, was described by the newspaper who reported this item as having a “powerful…
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