The poet awoke before dawn, but he didn’t but his boots on. Instead, he wore dark glasses. “To see the stars better,” he said, but we saw him on the beach with them, staring into tits. His appearance was scrawny, skinny. This, of course, was from the sheer enjoyment of constant word-sparkling vision upon him …
Author Archives: Chris Stroffolino
I never met a 4 I didn’t like
In winter struggling through the snow a hitchhiker— Passing by warm in a Datsun 280z is me wondering Should I ask my driver to pick him up. I didn’t— but I thought about it a lot. Is this, perhaps, what poets are made of? – Chris Stroffolino
Lunch Counter Song
I only want mustard on half. And I want you to put a large M on it. And when I ask: “Did I pay for it?” Deep down, it means I want you to tell me I don’t have to. – Chris Stroffolino
Goshdarn Pastoral
When my apartment has no heat I revert to writing like a beat. And when I have no dope I can’t help but write like Pope. & I learn a new language to say “on my knees” In, now that my boss is Japanese So, what have they done to the field I had to …
A Typical Afternoon With Nature
I am walking to the Li’l Arf an’ Annie Pet Shop To get some food for This Newfoundland I share my one room apartment with, And I see a humane society truck Run over a family of deer, And I see a bull Dozer tearing up the forest in order To build the wildlife foundation. …