I’ll be reading at DIA Foundation on Monday with Bruce Andrews. Please come!
Month: January 2014
Squirm Pill
Now as I was pugilistic under the middlebrows
Above a minty mouth as slappy as a mondegreen
Where right above the dingleberry
Crime let me flail in rhymes
Moldy in the Fay Wray exercise
And horny among dragons I was winced at by caps and gowns
And once below the slime I hardly had the knees of bees
Frail with laziness, snarling
down the quiver of the pinball fight
And as I was Oprah Winfrey, shameless in tangled yarns
About the papillons and clinging as the harm was form
In the crumb that was somewhat lonely
Mimes let me bray and find
Gordon in the smurfy antifreeze
and feeling mopey I was mutton and birdman, the elves’
sanctity corn, the loxes’ lonely trills snarking clear and bold
And Black Sabbath sang lowly
In the Pebbles of the Bam-Bam dreams
All the dugongs they were sunning, it was grumbly, the shlemiel
flying with grouse, the moons in the kidney, it was there
and swaying, mumbling and muttering
like frying sassafrass
and politely under the pimple jars
I rolled the sleepy towels while staring at marmalade.
All the blue lanyards, messy and unstable, the gotchas
vying with their pricks, and the chortlers
crashing into the quarks
A tremulous shake, and the bomb, like a quandary might
with the new, dumb lack, or querulous soldier, it was all
timing, it was rad and amazing.
The guys chatttered again
And the musky hounds began to bray
So it must have been after the jerk of that limber knight
In the words’ silly place, the spellbound nurses walking warm
And shimmying, unstable,
Into the bleary haze
And wandered among toxins and peasants with the famous
under readymade crowds and snappy as the art was wrong
as an unborn over and over.
I ran my sleepless maze
My fishes spaced out the Mabuhay
And nothing I cared, in my Bayou shades, that time mellows
In all his rueful burning, such blue and such boring songs
before the kitties mean and scolding
swallow him out of space
Nothing I cared, in the lamb lip haze, that time would take me
to the marshmallow sangfroid with a sparrow of a man
to a tune that is anodyzing
Nor that riding a Jeep
I should hear him shout to the Seinfelds
and quake to the charm forever bled from the violet band.
Oh as I was young and sleazy like a new adzuki bean.
Time held me like a lion
Though I came in my mane, like a dweeb.
New Energy to the World of Words
A helium balloon is soft and the soft is always expanding
into a repulsive little scab in a pattern of a mood swing
and he likes to look at me! he likes to look at me!
Women have a way of breathing new life into older white men
poised for imagery on a trip wire, always expanding verses
into steamy sapphic spectacles with lady parts their bros
in prose are afraid to touch. The IQs of agonized fleas are
flying pills, dominated by the difference between restraint
and restraints in the city’s changing literary balloon.
This consumer frenzy rose design performs orgasms,
weight gain, rashes, and diarrhea caught on film
at the poetry brothel and has an MFA in flashdancing.
Authentically dainty wordsmiths in the house of art fly off shelves
and he likes to look at me! I’d like to start flossing menstruations.
and he likes to look at me! I’d like to start flossing menstruations.
part 2 of A POEM THAT SWELLS UP
I’m serious, I’m going to Paris.
I’m serious, I’m going to drain the brains of other cultures.
Seriously trying to donate a deer tick.
Guess I ask these beans?
My boyfriend is delicious.
My boyfriend whom I am in the page.
A message from thermal clarinets:
Newborn babies were realy something.
Desire for a minute ago
I watched a jar of fenugreek in the pee
Up up and BEAUTY
my wool over the miso in his countenance
I watched two episodes of beng a semicolon
I watched a black rayon kneelength pencil skirt, deep hopelessness
I’m serious, I’m going to the tomatoes to have poetry
in a wound incarnadine slightly musky and animalic
Big old honking vacuums of hair
in a secondlanguage environment
The worst song in my dreams five minutes ago
Wool over jammed mouths – loudish
Moaning a little trying to stay in the cisterns
Rubbing velvet princes
And sighing like a baboon in a sham farce
As a kind of vegan rabbi I can buy baby artichokes in my poems
Giant eel birds stand on the eardrum
Tonight’s bedroom and the suffering of animals
And humans concoct the unexplainable.
This loom of the hero is a feathery feeling
I watched the cats stuck to the curry.
They were supposed to stop yowling.
I watched two episodes of each penis
and both snails were busily ingesting this
Shocking pink suit, red thing, I am out
Purity? Wholeness? Wait.
Otohime 