If you want to get in
on a good racket,
start wearing a helmet
at places like Meijer.
They make you take a little
wheelchair/Amigo thing
and you can steal
all kinds of shit.
The Amigo is sweet.
If you get a key
you're set for life.
Any K-Mart anywhere
in the world
is yours to drive
around the parking lot in.
Let's Amigo,
Amigo!
They will bust you
when they see you
with an Amigo
so tie that key
to a string
around your wrist.
My brother tried
to look dopey
and it seemed to work.
Never got caught.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
CHEATING PT III: EULOGY
Gang leaders take note. Punishment is not a curse, but a strange blessing. The true curse is apathy & there is nothing if not the extreme. A set of snow white wings, a bleeding sparrow.
Are there any warriors here tonight? Are you taking back the street? Do the streets need to be taken? … What of the earth? Is it right to be in nature? Is it right to be of nature? Our saint was heaven sent with a halo bent.
The best person I have ever known, she is just one of a few children but a fierce light of her own entire. The love she held in her heart could raise a poor girl in the projects. This is what singers sang about when they referred to the ghetto. A spirit named “L-U-V.”
Her height belied her tall capacity to give, a saint like no other but not unlike every other saint. She could transform an angel food cake into an avocado, frost to fruit, a bird into a stone.
Have you ever really touched a satin cloth? Have you ever really felt a wedding gown? Does the cloak of a nun inspire thee? Would you blow into the ear of your oppressors? Our saint. Our saint.
Imagine the air turned to glass. Imagine a halo of burrs. A crown of doves. The leaves of a pine. She taught me how to put on makeup. She taught me how to wear clothes so that I’ll always look my best: “A bow tie, a cummerbund, a single lace sock.”
Who here helped at the funeral? Who held our saint’s hand? Were you there when they bit the umbilical cord? Did you say something sweet to your neighbor? Raise your hands or don’t; there is apathy, there is damnation, there is enticement, there is a hot cross bun.
We sat in the basement eating bread. When I did not want starch, she showed me her bruise. “How shallow of me,” I thought. And then I tasted the bread.
Are there any warriors here tonight? Are you taking back the street? Do the streets need to be taken? … What of the earth? Is it right to be in nature? Is it right to be of nature? Our saint was heaven sent with a halo bent.
The best person I have ever known, she is just one of a few children but a fierce light of her own entire. The love she held in her heart could raise a poor girl in the projects. This is what singers sang about when they referred to the ghetto. A spirit named “L-U-V.”
Her height belied her tall capacity to give, a saint like no other but not unlike every other saint. She could transform an angel food cake into an avocado, frost to fruit, a bird into a stone.
Have you ever really touched a satin cloth? Have you ever really felt a wedding gown? Does the cloak of a nun inspire thee? Would you blow into the ear of your oppressors? Our saint. Our saint.
Imagine the air turned to glass. Imagine a halo of burrs. A crown of doves. The leaves of a pine. She taught me how to put on makeup. She taught me how to wear clothes so that I’ll always look my best: “A bow tie, a cummerbund, a single lace sock.”
Who here helped at the funeral? Who held our saint’s hand? Were you there when they bit the umbilical cord? Did you say something sweet to your neighbor? Raise your hands or don’t; there is apathy, there is damnation, there is enticement, there is a hot cross bun.
We sat in the basement eating bread. When I did not want starch, she showed me her bruise. “How shallow of me,” I thought. And then I tasted the bread.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Monday, March 07, 2011
CHEATING PT II
The roar of a cycle
heard in the distance.
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Who were his enemies?
And was it the police?
Is there blood on his hands?
Or is he a thief?
heard in the distance.
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Who were his enemies?
And was it the police?
Is there blood on his hands?
Or is he a thief?
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
The wind is blowing,
it's doing its thing.
Feeling it in my face,
dang danger dang.
Did he call his gal
a blushing who-ore?
And just how did he escape
with his thing caught in the door?
Imagine a bad thing,
a bad bad thing.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
CHEATING PT I
His roommate was listening to us talk about a few women we knew. He asked us to talk about a woman we knew with redeeming qualities. My friend didn't know what he meant. His roommate explained: "That's what's the matter with you." Then he explained what a redeeming quality was. We tried to think of anyone we knew with redeeming qualities. It was next to impossible. We talked about my ex and we talked about her father who we called the 'potato on toothpicks' because he was a small guy & wanted to be tough so he let his stomach get all big but he still had twiggy little legs. Ever since then I've been on the wrong side of the law.
Friday, January 14, 2011
HER SHINING DULCET HAMMER
A band of frigid nuns overheard a guy:
"I'm a lucky one. I've not met a frigid woman."
What would the movement have to say about this?
And could this man ever look at a baby and guess its age?
The nuns begin to converge,
the rapping of clogs of black leather on stone.
"I'm a lucky one. I've not met a frigid woman."
He continued:
"I'm kind of living through a tension I have not known.
The feeling is almost of euphoria."
What would the movement have to say about this?
And could this man ever look at a baby and guess its age?
The nuns begin to converge,
the rapping of clogs of black leather on stone.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
THE TAR FLATS
We were inside a Canadian cabin
with a boot of Canadian Club
and no deck of cards and no dice.
The forecast had been correct
but we don't want to be the kind
to talk of weather.
We're going to die die die
which is something we joke about
but seems feasible.
The door hasn't budged in days
and a dirty patch of carpet
reminded me of something.
A rubber blanket weeps sex sweat:
we weren't in a cabin
we were in a motel.
The dirty patch of carpet is here
and the tan flecks of skin
from sun beating through a sweater.
Move to Memphis and fall in love
and fall in love with Memphis
a kind of Memphis torture.
with a boot of Canadian Club
and no deck of cards and no dice.
The forecast had been correct
but we don't want to be the kind
to talk of weather.
We're going to die die die
which is something we joke about
but seems feasible.
The door hasn't budged in days
and a dirty patch of carpet
reminded me of something.
A rubber blanket weeps sex sweat:
we weren't in a cabin
we were in a motel.
The dirty patch of carpet is here
and the tan flecks of skin
from sun beating through a sweater.
Move to Memphis and fall in love
and fall in love with Memphis
a kind of Memphis torture.
Soft skin, a heated argument over soup
"You look like a bunch of girls,"
he said to he.
he said to he.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
THE MORAL COMPASS IS SO WEIRD...
A classic Christian execution
at fledermaus HQ.
And the moon burped at me,
the moon spit at me.
And I,
I farted at the moon.
Sometimes I regret what I said
about dreams
because this time
you were stripping in the car.
at fledermaus HQ.
And the moon burped at me,
the moon spit at me.
And I,
I farted at the moon.
Sometimes I regret what I said
about dreams
because this time
you were stripping in the car.
The bruise of horse manure
because it is pleasant
does not mean that it's soothing!!
does not mean that it's soothing!!
Friday, December 17, 2010
DIAL-A-POEM
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