I.
In somewhat uncertain economic times
It is—perhaps—why you have been
Need another reason?
How about that you
Your first,
Each additional
Plus, for the first time ever
So don't miss out
II.
There's no real town out there,
it's all new money, honey.
Stay home with me and respond to the mail.
I'm drowsy from the very thought
of the voluminous correspondence we keep
with every Tom, Dick, Harry, and Sally
at this, that, the other, and still another
insurance company or complaint department.
I need you like a baby in a movie needs
a fella's face to piss in.
Who on earth am I going to bore
as I strain to regurgitate what I've read,
who will strain to appear to listen and
shower me softly with faint praise
through these clumsily abridged autumn days?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
MARKET QUAKE
The komposite man can say
I CARE in all world languages
without feeling it
as far as feeling something
goes in any language in relation
to its motherculture.
If he were to say to you,
but then again no.
But yeah, if he were to say to you,
"WE have produced, by the assembly line of time,
the tarrable-featherable bosh-mongers
and lined them up before thrones
and this will continue
until the final star
drops like a lonely tear
and is snorted into the fat
nose of a blaq hole,"
then what would you do, mah darling?
Take up guns?
SOME DO IT FOR GOD AND COUNTRY
SOME DO IT FOR CONTINUITY
I CARE in all world languages
without feeling it
as far as feeling something
goes in any language in relation
to its motherculture.
If he were to say to you,
but then again no.
But yeah, if he were to say to you,
"WE have produced, by the assembly line of time,
the tarrable-featherable bosh-mongers
and lined them up before thrones
and this will continue
until the final star
drops like a lonely tear
and is snorted into the fat
nose of a blaq hole,"
then what would you do, mah darling?
Take up guns?
SOME DO IT FOR GOD AND COUNTRY
SOME DO IT FOR CONTINUITY
Monday, September 8, 2008
ORIGINAL SEAL IS BROKEN
Nantucket Nectars cap:
Nantucket
was created
50-70,000 years ago
during the Earth's
last glacial era.
My response:
Bran ducat
buzz sedated
thrifty blue Heaven-bee grouse and tears to flow
boring Jah births
blast facial serum.
Nantucket
was created
50-70,000 years ago
during the Earth's
last glacial era.
My response:
Bran ducat
buzz sedated
thrifty blue Heaven-bee grouse and tears to flow
boring Jah births
blast facial serum.
ARE WE JUICE GUYS OR ARE WE MICE?
Nantucket Nectars cap:
In 1837,
cobblestones were
laid in Nantucket to
help prevent wagon
wheels from sinking
into the sand.
My response:
Gin, late-teen dirty heaven,
bubble blown—her
maid, kin, tan bucket knew
kelp. She sent dragon
peels, gum blinking
Pinto—ah, grand.
In 1837,
cobblestones were
laid in Nantucket to
help prevent wagon
wheels from sinking
into the sand.
My response:
Gin, late-teen dirty heaven,
bubble blown—her
maid, kin, tan bucket knew
kelp. She sent dragon
peels, gum blinking
Pinto—ah, grand.
THE DOHA ROUND
...these conflicting forces—growing
TO SHOW YOU ALL THE ANGLES but
she's also busy "tweaking" high—
Dudamel couldn't be happier. "It
has insomnia!"
And to think, most prin-
cesses—and actresses—only
left where a
rebel artist can
open up and
say anything
...such a bumper crop of
human bones and clumps of hair
the believer
and the infidel.
Bishop didn't drink or raise hell much,
of his comedy act, "I told you to wait in the truck."
ten opened and closed a
very bad book you're
the first Russian to relinquish power voluntarily.
Make that "Doubt,"
a pregnant Southern belle, whom she
called "Shrub."
We've talked since about moving.
(This poem is made up of bits and pieces from a news magazine I was thumbing through at the Cambridge Y. Probably Newsweek.)
TO SHOW YOU ALL THE ANGLES but
she's also busy "tweaking" high—
Dudamel couldn't be happier. "It
has insomnia!"
And to think, most prin-
cesses—and actresses—only
left where a
rebel artist can
open up and
say anything
...such a bumper crop of
human bones and clumps of hair
the believer
and the infidel.
Bishop didn't drink or raise hell much,
of his comedy act, "I told you to wait in the truck."
ten opened and closed a
very bad book you're
the first Russian to relinquish power voluntarily.
Make that "Doubt,"
a pregnant Southern belle, whom she
called "Shrub."
We've talked since about moving.
(This poem is made up of bits and pieces from a news magazine I was thumbing through at the Cambridge Y. Probably Newsweek.)
WAITING FOR THE WORD
Waiting for the word.
Buzzing around my workspace
like a troublesome fly.
I like this: riding the choppy waves
in my jalopy of a motorboat,
I await the rearing of the great shark's head.
SNOWBOAT
ALL THE big fat birds swoop
into the specter of newscast past.
The end is a burst of COLOR—
Gods, dragons, free lunches—
these are like the eyeful of sky
I rarely catch but often try
to imagine, like starting a fire
with a spoon and a rock.
the sea no salvation
the umbrella no understanding
the restroom no respite
Gosh, it's bright outside.
(Originally posted on Rhetorical Vomit.)
into the specter of newscast past.
The end is a burst of COLOR—
Gods, dragons, free lunches—
these are like the eyeful of sky
I rarely catch but often try
to imagine, like starting a fire
with a spoon and a rock.
the sea no salvation
the umbrella no understanding
the restroom no respite
Gosh, it's bright outside.
(Originally posted on Rhetorical Vomit.)
THAT TREE IS FAR AWAY
That tree is far away from city life.
Even if it were not so far away,
even if its roots smashed up the sidewalks of Huntington Ave.,
it couldn’t hear the 808 bass bombs that blast out your trunk
from block to shining block.
I have a chalice
no one drinks from
(not even I do)
made of
cold sun sharpened air.
Some actions are preceded by long disclaimers.
Some people are preceded by their actions.
Some people monger rumors, war and sickness.
The time for vanity is now. Time to turn
the other, more viable cheek.
These deskbound blues ring true. Not too far away
I know life is being lived—not just lives.
I am desperately aware that the wagon wheel
needs not this component, this spare part.
Endless shivering applause? Coughing up clouds?
A dead stump grows out of the brown ice,
duct-taped to it, branches of spite, malice.
Is that tree really so far away?
Listen up: over the hill or over the cliff?
(First posted on Rhetorical Vomit.)
Even if it were not so far away,
even if its roots smashed up the sidewalks of Huntington Ave.,
it couldn’t hear the 808 bass bombs that blast out your trunk
from block to shining block.
I have a chalice
no one drinks from
(not even I do)
made of
cold sun sharpened air.
Some actions are preceded by long disclaimers.
Some people are preceded by their actions.
Some people monger rumors, war and sickness.
The time for vanity is now. Time to turn
the other, more viable cheek.
These deskbound blues ring true. Not too far away
I know life is being lived—not just lives.
I am desperately aware that the wagon wheel
needs not this component, this spare part.
Endless shivering applause? Coughing up clouds?
A dead stump grows out of the brown ice,
duct-taped to it, branches of spite, malice.
Is that tree really so far away?
Listen up: over the hill or over the cliff?
(First posted on Rhetorical Vomit.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)