Three Poems

“Dictated, Not Read”

Clearasil wants to lick that zit, and I do too.

This lamp on the bedside table,

it also makes dark come night’s end.

How can I hold you when I’m all ears?

No one should want their wife

to be an ugly person, probably,

and so how to reconcile the little coincidences

I guess I’ll never know.

“Topps”

Fecal transplant is sometimes

a solution for irritable bowels.

I sure hope that one day they

put Pete Rose in the Hall of Fame.

“Informants”

Steve Ganyard says, “There is nobody at the CIA

who can tell you more personally about Kim Jong Eun

than Dennis Rodman,” but the trillest word I ever heard was 

how to make saddle shoes from white sneaks and a Sharpie.

"Lena's Voice" by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

a black dildo
would have sufficed

that white ghetto
worth listening for

it's like a checklist
of being naughty

and sometimes
it is

You're Not Real, Girl

There was pain, my friend,
unable to look up as you,
unable to see her, almost
too perfect, you thought,
You're not real, girl, and
we confessed it was true.

Party Hangover

I've invented a bed for breaking bodies,
and it is taking a toll on my work life:

it separates joints by hardening muscles,
and then you find lovers you ought to have forgotten
telling you in fevered dreams that things will be alright

I've invented a bed of cruel humor, apparently,
a thing that snickers as my turning is frustrated
beneath its quilts that I can no longer air out

it has not yet done its work enough to spit me out
and nightly I attend the party that will one day do me in.

I just write poems about gifs now, this is completely tru.

I couldn
t find the
correct g
if for this
tho booo.

Lena Dunham Deserves All the Poems

This weekend is too long
it's been going on for days,
like, basically all weekend,
and now it's the week, what the fuck.

No one asked me, but I told them, I said,
"Yo, you know why I write poems for Lena Dunham?"
And then I showed 'em, and to be perfectly honest,
I have no earthly idea what this poem is supposed to be about, but

Hold Up

I just met you and this is crazy but
I think I'll keep dancing on my own.

It Was His Crustacean Period

What I saw was okay, and followed by lounge jazz,
a man with an Arby's sack full of I'd wager
more than just a bucket of Horsey Sauce (mmm)
upset about the death of my friend's dinner (hmm)
and a bit of sea spray from Earl, it was controversial
by local standards probably you could take a joke
and eat it: what I didn't know didn't hurt me, probably.

 

In-Game Commentary

I made up my mind before
I made up my face and now
I do what I like I like to barter
I trade pumpkin bread for reiki
I barely know how to bake but
I know how to love another now
I made up my mind before and
I will make it up again before
I step out to feel you tell the world
I am so beautiful in your eyes and lucky.

Say TY

Bitches, please, please make a sandwich and then, then
just look at that sandwich, the tasteful thickness of it,
oh my God. Oh my God, it even has a watermark.

Any of you bitches know what time it is?
Little hand says it's time to rock and roll: hey,
I'm just a happy camper, rockin'-and-a-rollin'.

Life sure has a sick sense of humor, doesn't it?
The air got dirty and the sex got clean: I want you
I want you to clean your vagina.
 
Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?
They only live to get radical, and sex with gods,
you can't beat that. Do you like Phil Collins?

Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole. I'm leaving.
I've assessed the situation, and I'm going.
I'm going. Vaya con Dios, Brah.


 

Now I Wanna Be Your

It's not a haircut but an expression
by way of which we will compose moments
to circumnavigate mouthfeel and underthings.

God willing, our voices will bang ragged gesticulations
out through decompressing files that, God willing,
will know the relief of bit rot before we know our own.

Two blondes by the sound system:
didn't we just wanna have fun?

Two fleshy faces to ring a truer hangover:
more or less in some clanging morning light?

Who will mend the tik tok clock
when the tik tok clock is right twice a day?

Who will feed the warrior dog
when the warrior dog comes home?

 

Butter and Sugar Burger

Morning arrives, rays of your hair splayed

across lips cracked with chapping and a single spindle

of fragile spittle, and my only wish is to watch you smile.

Coffee will be black, its new role delighting you:

a new companion for the breakfast has been set;

I introduce you to the new breakfast set:

All the cream and sugar 

are on our buns, and I see you, 

I see you, :-)

Yes.

 

Lena Dunham is Exhausted

Lena Dunham has a million dollars
for advice she will write you, but she can't discontinue
talking words such as, "I like this part
because the yellow scarf provides us a detail
of your character's unconscious desire
to drive the four days to Rancho La Brea
and throw the baby in the tar pit," and, buddy,
she is motherfucking exhausted, okay?

Lena Dunham, I know one thing about you:
you have the resources to probably work out a hangout
with Neko Case, and you should do that--
a woman who carries her epitaph lightly likely
knows nothing of the exhaustion of talking words like that.
 
 

Milktent TM

Make your little one feel good again, full
and snug as a bug in a rug and suckling.

Why cut the critical umbilical of the nip
when for months yet to come you can tuck him in?

Shh.
Shhhhhhhh.

Tents are for sleeping, when the stars are scary
Mommy makes a milky way so you will not die awake.