A light on yonder window breaks! What far-begotten tastycakes Have loomed within the minds of men To poison dreams with images Clucked up like rocks from gizzards red To stay the rest of sleepy heads Pureéd with dust of dying fish That from this harrier’s net did slip So life is worn like tattered socks …
Category Archives: Poetry
A Spoor is Cloned
Hocus, pocus, mucous membrane How could anyone complain That when you drip from yonder brain, You tend to leave a mottled stain On pillowcases, floral-printed Brylcreem-soiled, and lemon-scented Although you leak, you cause no pain For this, a modest price we pay.
Ecce Homo
I am man, I clean the bathroom of god I bathe in surly wonderlust In hallowed dungeons, swept by gnomelike underlings I am man, I leave the driving to Us. Through piquant groves of olive trees I traipse and mince like anchovies Upon the vernal equinox of frozen pizza labyrinths I am man, I listen …
The Bitch Trip
Two smoke bombs, synchronized with his feat, explode to either side, belching pillars of thick mushroom smoke. Ric: The bag you’re in, the fear you fear. You’re a superhuman, subhuman freebase queer. Have a look into the morror, see the faces in your face. You’re a subdeb hero. You’re a see-through zero. You’re an ax-whacking, …
For Lewis Carroll
surrealist in nonsense As I sat contemplating what goes on inside your heads, my mind began to wander through sheets of unmade beds, Past the carousels of raisin blooms, onward to the queen, far beyond the velvet lace where the nice men all are mean. And on within a child’s last frown, my thoughts did …
Definitely Twelve Relievers
Bob Dylan wrote this but I know he was wrong It doesn’t take a genius to relinquish one’s baboon When he’s been outside wreaking havoc ‘neath the unobstructed moon Where’s that innocent bystander when you need him much too soon? Oh, mama, can this really be the end? To be struck upside the head?
Infinitely Snide Retrievers
How nakedly my coffee sits astride the cafe stool I often stop to think of it while trying not to drool. The waitress brings the Daily News, its headline still insists That deep within the crowbar lurks a drill instructor’s school The militants in Camden towne have lately been at play Their casual cordovan loafers …
E’s Poem for Earth Mother
Like a Sunday night movie we were Walking along the river in the rain Peering through the fog at the ghosts of cities on the far side on a winter night when the wind blew our scarves straight behind our backs. You are here in 1876 Reading the signs of streets where the dead walk …
Poet
A poet lost is a poet found A poet walks on more than ground And although he reports no sound, he hears with his eyes and speaks with his hands
Rebel Geeds in the Rhododendrons
Ma come quick there’s a quote from Flaubert squirting out of a magic marker all across the horizon And twin red cabooses with a man standing with a feet on each one And eight tiny reindeer And a cabbage patch kid And a flag and potatoes and a limestone facade That says He who know …