it struck me
as funny
that free condoms
handed out in
New York City
had subway maps
on the wrappers
in case you were erect
and desperately needed
to get
to Yonkers
Categories
Tag: satire
Categories
the resistance
i’m moving to
south america
to fight
in the resistance
it’s not political
i just love wearing berets
h,
hey louisville,
long time no hear from, don juan try hump fat
i’m about to get waynesburg on your stubborn ass
and i want you to know for years
i forgave you for blowing your head off,
hell,
i applauded your ballsy choice
you were nothing if not consistent
you were proof the most intelligent and keen amongst us
are prone to depression, suicide, and addiction,
because we understand how fucked up the world can be
and simply can’t bear the soul sucking siege and insult of it
no one should be made to suffer,
but you should be alive now
we need your voice now
more than ever,
gonzo journalist,
who thought the best was behind you
and it had only just begun
n’ don’t you tell me all the best kentuckians die young and grandly
you’re dead as a damned door nail
you can’t talk back
and aye, that’s the rub, old friend
i’m so mad at you for going away
if you weren’t already dead
i’d shoot you again myself
love you, fucker
a
my favorite feature of his
was his gargantuan scrotum
it was damned frightening
by god
like the vietnam war
every bit as hairy
and protracted
up until him
i had only seen that sort of thing
in a zoo
or an antique dentists office copy
of national geographic
Categories
glamour gal
i have the legs
of an angry ballerina
battleship hips
and stevedore arms
i laugh too loudly
but often cover my mouth
to hold the ecstasy inside me
i punched your uncle who was in the navy
at your christmas party
i spike my orange juice
with bourbon and honey
i’ve been known
to leave the house
wearing two different pumps
perhaps only one eye
of makeup done
vertigo
makes it so
i sometimes get dizzy when i’m driving
or wearing heels
and fall down
let us hope it’s a day
i have no panties on
i’m a poet
so i sit around
in the orange gloam
of after dinner evening
with other writers
coffee mugs in hand
discussing why it is
we haven’t slept
in years
and what it means when your piss smells
like a fresh roasted tanzanian nigerian blend
i can’t be anywhere on time
there exists a curve in my very existence
but i’m from the south
i do everything slowly
and with great deliberation
i masturbated in the tub once
and nearly drowned
such the glamour gal
there i was
upper middle class
grocery store fabulous
smelling of expensive perfume
made from the tears of persian cats
shopping in heels
where everything costs more
for hubris’ sake
giggling amidst the pork tenderloins
thinking about the weekend
we spent
having too much sex
pre-viagra
justifying all of it
i knew you were a liar, vagabond, and thief
what’s worse, a drummer, jesus
but i was raised poor
and
we were taught
never to waste
good meat
the hindu woman
avoids the utterance
of her husband’s name
because it is believed
each time she speaks his name
it brings him closer to death
i ask no forgiveness for
feeling silk wedding knots
wrapped around my throat
my pilgrimage to india
and saying your name in my sleep
i may be a poet
and known to occasionally hold a paint brush
but make no mistake
i’m not the artsy fartsy type
i shave my armpits
i don’t dance naked at midnight
through a field of kale chips
i wouldn’t use patchouli oil
to grease my engine
birkenstocks look as if they would make
a fine door stop
i wanna choke every hipster i see to death
with their fair trade hemp scarves
knit me a glove with just a middle finger, sunshine
oh,
look at the bohemians
aren’t they fucking quaint?