Monday, May 31, 2010
Poem for Monday, May 31, 2010
I Prayed for You
last night
but a number of things prevented
you from seeing it: partitions of
cigarette smoke, a lack of decent
street lights
your cataracts, and because
I did it in my mind.
What's amazing is how
you can go eons without a
single divine thought, but
"Dear God" is
the most
abused
utterance
ever.
I prayed for you, prayed
that you would keep
outliving me
(disclaimer:
not my will, but thine)
after I die
at age, say, 100.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Poem for Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Found Poems # 9-10
9.
for your chance to win a
virulent diamond
envision an eye exam and
contact lens discounts
on the schoolroom
windowpane
and sail on
10.
Andrewshek's Auntie Katushka:
sitcom buffoon
the real Messiah
city that is set on a hill
multi-color;
Samuel, the Lamanite:
refurbished
available to visit with you
2.4 GHz
multi-color
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Poem for Sunday, May 23, 2010
A Thought in Memphis
The Blues have been collecting dust for
years
in Malcolm Bart's record store
on Beale
I'm starting to think Lightnin' Hopkins
didn't die of cancer
but suffocated in a plastic bin
choked
on "Lonesome Dog Boogie"
Oh, anyone can walk that street
in Memphis
gulp that BIG ASS beer
snapshoot
their sunlit faces beneath the
half-glow of neon signs
Anyone
can backflip for bucket change
distribute food flyers
go back to their hotel and
claim to have had
some revelation
But only a bluesy few
give a damn
about Malcolm's
about Lightnin' and the rest
about anything besides
an Elvis snowglobe
(no offense
to the King)
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Poem for Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Chapel Bells
ding-donged songs
of the Savior
to just one
receptive vessel
(I was smoking a
cigarette on
a strange porch).
they clanged, echoed
twelve times
saluting either noon
or dead disciples
(Judas Iscariot
had the faintest
resonance).
the ringing ceased
with time and
distance is all
I felt
(time, distance
x and y
...gone).
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Poem for Thursday, May 6, 2010
Things I Won't Forget
the smell of department stores
the name of my favorite teacher
every time I bloomed in autumn
(you lingered until the end
of springtime then left)
my first bumpy driving lesson
the taste of busted-lip blood
every time I shriveled in winter
(you forgot me a little more
with each new forget-me-not)
how the seasons come and go
and
the smell of department stores
(of course)
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Poem for Sunday, May 2, 2010
Earth in Adolescence
I.
a few weeks ago
those pesky pimples tore
through her Icelandic
forehead skin
thanks to Clearasil
neglect
she popped them herself
against the sky (her
mirror) & they oozed
magmatic puss
making her feel
quite ugly
II.
her monthly cycle
rolled through with
vengeance
as she helplessly bled
black down her
briny coastline
reports say the BP
phallus will be
pumping
thousands of barrels
each day until a
presidential tampon
blocks it
III.
she is convinced
she is too fat
with her six-billion-
people-belly so
she refuses food
in her
African regions
but at midnight
she raids her
American
fridges for apple pie
à la mode & by
morning it's gone
(where does it go)
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