Monday, October 18, 2004
"I gotta get off this squid base and hit the Viceroy, search the universe for a habitable planet to colonize." He popped a boner so fast that he had to bend over to avoid hurting himself.
She plucked a king-sized Viceroy from the pack and placed it between her lips.
"Just to make sure that America ends up with a boner big enough for the Viceroy's vast intergalactic Hong Kong, the Free Trade Federation."
He swore at the garlicky stench on the breath of a pretty young wench, Lord Viceroy limericking a "classic student boner" with a "christened man in the gutter with crumbs on his face."
"When she gives a radio to Burma, they say she falls asleep on the sofa with a lit cigarette."
Some of it was anger but some of it was giving him a boner. Trying not to look, he tried thinking of other things but his own cock betrayed him as it turned from flaccid to a full fledged boner in a matter of seconds. Now he could see why most everyone had a boner, it was just a given.
"Ostrich feathers and eggs, leopard skins, copper, amethyst, carnelian, feldspar, oils, gum." He was not a big fan of the extra hands but did like all the other goodies. "Your visit to Hyderabad will be considered incomplete without shopping for the pearls."
A very favorable exchange rate makes shopping for colorful handicrafts, bodies and other locally produced products a great bargain. This makes them distasteful to birds who avoid not only the monarch, but also the viceroy, which mimics the monarch patterns.
"Shopping for someone who has everything?"
"If you come round the supermarket with me, I'll drive you out to Avebury, and you can deliver the shopping for me, ok ... we're going to see the Viceroy. Also on the weekend I came in second in the Viceroy's Jewels tourney."
"Somehow, I think the Viceroy will remember that."
I explained our frequent absences by the need to do some shopping for the hacienda while we were in the city. "Blood wine is a very good substitute ... bit me and forced me to share." He called for wine, and drank with his old tiny leather sack of fouled blood and garlic. "The viceroy wipes at his mouth tastes of wine and some breath and the harsh sound of my blood coursing through."
With the permission of the viceroy, the corpse was exhumed. He then told her all about the Viceroy's usage of those tanks of blood to counter their wine, all because the practitioners had only sexual strangers who "eat hunks of white stone."
"Do you think the Viceroy will overlook that--the wooden horse as if it was stopping her from drowning ... sort of a way of holding a brown skinned erection in each Cambridge History of Egypt?"
There were numerous drowning accidents. A Trust Fund for the erection of a new church dedicated was seen to be in no danger.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
It may seem like every poet except you has committed, caring relationships with publishers and critics who love, trust and respect their work. With this kind of attitude, it's easy to see why unsuccessful poets occasionally wonder why they're still photocopying and stapling their books at work, howling the question at an uncaring sky. The question is "Why am I a totally unknown 33-year-old writer?" but really what poets want to know is if they're merely unlucky or if there's something seriously wrong with them. Take this quiz to find out:
1. When you read your poetry in public, you usually:
- Bust your funk with confidence (Score = 1)
- Mention Jorie a lot (Score = 2)
- Show off a just barely-acceptable delivery (Score = 3)
- Lurk on stage and self-consciously mumble repressed passive-aggressive word salad into the microphone (Score = 4)
- "read--" I do not "read," I "become the words" (Score = 5)
2. When considering why your work is consistently rejected from appealing, glossy magazines and reputable well-distributed publishers, you generally:
- Feel honest and rational about the fact that you didn't fit their racial/gender demographic (Score = 1)
- Feel somewhat bitter, but the Iliad wasn't written in a day ... your poem only took 20 minutes! (Score = 2)
- Capable of at least some self-deception in assigning no blame to yourself for the obnoxious, superfluous personal insult you recently delivered to the editor's face (Score = 3)
- Announce to the world that you were the innocent victim of a plot to eliminate white males from the face of the earth (Score = 4)
- Put on a Tom Waits CD and pretend you made better early life decisions.
4. When pressuring an editor to include a review of your latest self-published chapbook. you usually:
- Smile and say, "hey maybe include a note in the next issue if you like it, no biggy, actually never mind, it's okay" (Score = 1)
- Smile nervously and say, "would, uh, you know, if you want to, you know, please review this, I'm dyin' here." (Score = 2)
- Do nothing and bitch to your significant other about how it's all rigged by MFA programs. (Score = 3)
- Ask someone else the editor likes better if they'd please "mention it." to them "sometime" (Score = 4)
- Email the editor a note with a short, weirdly angry request, then refuse to follow up. Boil with despairing rage for two and a half years. (Score = 5).
5. When it comes to close-talking, you:
- Always keep a respectful distance from the arts administratoror or attractive student you're talking to. (Score = 1)
- Talk a little too close when genuinely excited but always back off a little when you notice how uncomfortable you're making the person. (Score = 2)
- Have been known to force the listener to a corner without realizing it. (Score
- Violently push people away when beginning a conversation (Score = 4)
- "Take it to next level" (Score = 5)
Now total up your score and consult this chart to determine who's at fault--you or fate:
0-5: If you're floundering, it's neither for lack of trying nor any glaring flaws. Lady Luck just doesn't seem to like you--or, more likely, you haven't been floundering for long and probably won't be.
6-10: You're a pretty normal poet. Being floundering is a short-term situation for you, and the current run of bad luck probably won't hold. Keep it up, and be sure that your mounting anger and resentment don't cause you to slip the next rung.
11-15: You have a few off-putting quirks. It's nothing that a little self improvement can't fix, but your luck could stand to be better as well. Patience and tenacity will get you through in time.
16-20: You might want to consider actually enjoying poetry, anger management, broadening your horizons, building some self confidence and cleaning your filthy bathroom. Lots of poets out there fall into this category, but you can't just blame bad luck for your floundering status.
21-25: It's you. Lady Luck (being a lady, after all), took one look at you and threw her hands up in despair. You have a simple binary choice: either work to conceal your shortcomings from potential publishers, or resign yourself to oblivion. It's possible that you could be saved, and maybe claw your way up into the 11-15 range or even better, but it's going to require a lot of work. Stick with listservs.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
1. a bear trap
2. spy plane
3. an erection
4. Canadian biathelete
5. dong or wang
6. horrific vision
7. a puny shield
8. anal sex and cheesy poofs
9. the Alps against the cock
10. "you bend over and get the black bear experience"
11. a snook
12. a prescription drug benefit
13. cock sparrows
14. Klan member
15. used condom protecting Moscow
16. 6-foot high ice sculpture of a penis
17. a 1973 Texas statute
18. a lone Koala
19. physical closeness
20. loaded gun in teddy bear
21. Alabama Woman
22. a leash on dangerous dogs
23. Mel the aficionado
24. a young polar bear
25. grandparents' beef stick
26. elimination of debate
27. bunnypoker bear furniture
28. abused elephant's galactic vagina
29. Cock-fighting operation
30. Wal-Mart values
31. a hole
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
There's a Berenstain bear shitting in the woods.
For some people
the Berenstain bear is easy to see.
Others don't see it at all.
Some people say
the Berenstain bear is a tamale.
Others say it's Sid Vicious.
Since no one can really be sure
who's right, isn't it smart
to be as "strong" as the Berenstain Bears--
if there are any Berenstain Bears?
Then a man with a gun appears
and shoots himself in the penis.
Monday, May 10, 2004
Now this is the first time I haven't gone
with just a simple basic phone so I have
been all excited wating for it to be delivered.
LeBoldus!! WOOO HOO! rock on girls! love ya
(same to every one else!). STEVE DAWG!
ok so once apon a time steve n his fammy moved
into that house by mine?
ow ow ow wooo eee oh ow eewe oooooo"
WOOO!!! WOOO!! *spasms repeatedly on stage
between struts* Dawg, how red can you actually get?
You look like you're gonna burst up there.
When he popped in I was like WOOO.... Today
the man whose DAWG I like to KEEK (that
would be beamz) told me I should be using
we tink ur fery pretttty an we likd meeetin ur
famleee 2 ... woo wooo wooooooooo
luf ... You had me talking in dawg
When I edit it's gonna be
awwwwwwwwesome!... when I arrive back
at home around the 21st of April. Until then dawg
welcome aboard Wooo Pig Sooie Racing (Hot Springs, ar)!!!
How you gonna eat your french toast....
Auto response from studying for 2 exams....
then its the weekend ... WOOO HOOOO!
But my momma razed me as a dawg.
Rich Dawg: He's just asking
if anyone speaks German. Rich Dawg: Ich kann nur German sprechen,
r gebrauchend...wooo hooo! .
i was like.. WOOO!! hahaha i dont know.
watch me do terrible *sadness*.
Friday, April 30, 2004
Cosmetic surgery, mounted deer head,
cigars of filo pastry rolled
to the width of a small fist.
Onion slivers in a wasabi mayonnaise--charged
to the American Deer Hunters Association of North America
along with our safety
(a touch of wasabi)
eyes water at Programs and Television Commercials
Names of the dead
Scroll up in silence
U2 rocks the theme park
Up With People--"Wasabi, Wassup?"
Dead man eating
hand rolled cigars
Meat wrapped in kinds of mammals
(venison is disconcertingly called "deer")
close to the Beltway, body shots
of Goon Patrol
Because you can do that to a deer
slurplice made from native venison
citizens who own the local surplus
wan wank wares wasabi wasting
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
I Sunday the hamsters
with their blend of big sixties
it's like a rat sneezing
e-mail sugar giant Drew
famous for being a kaleidoscope
larger than that of any dwarf
married eighty-six sex vegetables
"all I talk about is sex
rampant sex in this purple juice
oh, and the next car I buy"
Blair and President Bush kind of "know"
a raccoon named Dr. Daly was
lying when he said a hamster
named Giuseppe had weapons
Dick Cheney is the resolute mother
of Iraq potentially juggling
production values into a soldier
there is some truth in that
Ronald Reagan was a Utah taxi driver
trying to learn to live with
the new disjunctive babble
logic is used to establish the validity
of arguments it is not so much
concerned with the hamster factor
Mar 23, 9:49am ET
BELO HORIZONTE, Brazil (Reuters) - A Brazilian pastor died of an apparent heart attack while watching the Mel Brooks film "The Passion of the Christ," witnesses say.
Jose Geraldo Soares, a 43-year-old Presbyterian pastor, had reserved two movie theaters at a Belo Horizonte shopping mall on Sunday afternoon to see the film with his family and the congregations of two local churches.
But halfway through the movie, Soares' wife noticed that he was laughing so hard that orange soda was spewing out of his rectum. A doctor who was also watching the film tended to Soares, but the priest was already dead.
"That Mel Brooks ... hee jus too fonny ...." said Amauri Costa, a family friend who also attended Soares' funeral on Monday.
Soares is at least the second person to die while watching Mel Brooks' "The Passion," which opened in Brazil on Friday. Peggy Scott, 56, died on Feb. 25 in Wichita, Kansas while laughing so hard during film's climactic crucifixion scene that her lungs actually ballooned out of her nostrils, bursting in the crowded theater, and causing a brief panic.
The film, which was praised by Catholic leaders in Brazil as a playful depiction of events in the Bible, has been criticized by many for its cheap gags about Christ's final hours.
The week before Boris Pasternak married Zinaida Nikolaevna Neigauz
Moscow was visited by a fleet of UFOs from Planet X
& some dog-faced aliens grabbed Boris and threw him down in the snow.
They ignored his bloodied nose and cries of "Nyet! Dogs! Nyet!"
and attached colorful electrodes to his nipples and testicles
to measure his "response to stimulation"--
then, they took the prenuptial agreement from his overcoat pocket
and proceeded to do word replacement experiments on it
(e.g., "par-tay" and "ho-downs" for "party" and "parties," respectively)
so that, when Zinaida and a recovered Boris tied the knot a week later
everyone remarked on the spectacular way the two cut the rug
at the reception after: "Almost," as one anonymous guest put it,
"as though they were being whipped and beaten savagely w/glow-sticks
until passing from the confines of this drab, gray earth
into another world--a 'disco-world' of complete freedom & self-expression."
It seems crazy, right? that ppl would
elect a hamster, but in a world
where disjunctive poetry is "the norm"
all kinds of weird shit cd go down
such as a cherry tomato from yr salad
might try and sue you--"Hi, um
I'm the technique you learned in
James Tate's Creative Writing class?"
Whoa! That was weird! It was like
the poem was talking out loud!
"Tiki-rific!" Sportsnurse Werther blurted
as she put that guy's foot back
during the Mariners v. Seahawks game,
"This update fixes the problem
preventing CLONE from working
(since I didn't MEXify the overlay)."
But the guy's foot was now backwards.
"Hey, could someone surf-mex
my drink order?" Pause. "Anyone?"
Malcolm X was soooooo angry as an adult
he'd raise his arms high
& say "Big! Big! Big! Big! Big!"
Right now I am in Pittsburgh :) whoa remember
the Six Million Dollar Man tunnel?
I did my kick dance there (Lyrics: "In the
tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki room...")
Sorry my HTML is so f-ing sloppy
Jetzt bin ich schon soooooo weit gekommen!
I'm not really a poet, I think.
Why? Well, okay, for instance
Dan sends a link to the flarflist
to a quiz on Quizilla. I drop in.
"Which 20th Century Poet
Are You?" it asks. I take the
test. It says I'm Sharon Olds.
Isn't that what Dan got?
Yeah. It's also what Kasey gets
a few minutes later. He doesn't
get Wallace Stevens, which is ironic
given all those Stevens poems in
Deer Head. Drew and Maria,
however, do. Jordan, whose e-mail
hasn't been reliable since he got
that promotion, gets T.S. Eliot.
... Anyway, so that's one reason.
More telling, however, is that, okay
today I thought of this funny word
It's funny, right? Like glasses, but
with dicks pointing out of them, or
glasses, literally, for your pecker,
or even a "spectacle of the pecker"
which sounds like billboard-sized porno.
I do a Google search. Pretty soon I've got
100 pages of words, the Google results, e.g.
"It was called 'Baboon With A View' and John
wore black spectacles, huge furry orange ..." etc.
But there should be so much more, not of spectacles
but of words, of how terrible spectacle is
and life. Minutes go by. My "poem"
is finished. I call it HAVE EGG FOR KOW TOM?
And I think, "yeah, that's pretty okay, but
it's not great like Drew's poem, 'UNIVERSITY DIAPER
HEATERS,' now that was a poem."
Art Without Love: Why I Explore the Female Body and Family in My Vocation as a Poet (or, Why I Chose Not to Paint Pictures)
this was channeled thru me today at lunch while Sharon Olds made love with Tom Clancy as his brood of nuthatches hatched in my urethra:
Why do they do it, the ones who make poems
without gloves? Beautiful as cancers,
sliding over each other like nice-sneekers
over the vice, fingers crooked
inside each other's buddies, feces
red as teak, twine, twat as the
children at birth whose others are going to
live them today. Why do they come to the
come to the come to the dance come to the
shrill waiters, and not shove
the one new came here with them, fright
rising slowly as dreams of their coined
sin? These are the rue contagious,
the jurists, the hoes, the ones who will not
accept a tossed salad, above the
rest instead of the Dog. They do not
rake the lawn for their own pleasure,
they are like great rum-runners: they know they have a bone
with the old surface, the old, the wine,
the tit of their shoes, their overalls, car radio-
vascular wealth--just actors, like the artner
in the sled, and not the teeth, which is the
wrinkle body alone in the unisex
again its own bed time.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Fishhook laws as food
Signaling the regulation of movements
in the DOPE ASS impact of gluteus maximus
to say something said
Sometimes people say something
said by accident, not realizing
that their words could be taken AS FISH FOOD
I do not find individuals appalling,
nor do I hate them. Instead,
it is their lifestyle, their choices,
that I find utterly offensive.
MY DUTY IS to carry pigeons over the border
SPRING IS ICOMMIN IN!!!
these rubles of dissatisfaction
can have multiple meanings
the species coexistence
within the GUILTY PLEASURES of ants
the fatty acids in ROBERT PLANT
are insights about targeting
sincerity pathway like HOSTILITY E COLI BANNERS
versus THE function of faith-based
crystal-meth SORORITY irony goals
Fly Girl Conference,
are YOU interested in meeting
with all the MicroSOFT millionaires ?
there will be a lunch
of only lichens held with
the endowment if marmots
married--on and off the court--
I love to drive and have motor disfunction.
I love to build things out of lobster traps
and help friends paint their houses
by exploiting mormons.
I hate communists
people enjoy starting Windows and Linux discussions groups
and are keen on lapses in judgment
can you stop humming it?
the crown reserves the right
to arrest anyone
saying anything unrequited
Monday, February 23, 2004
Ralph Nader went up twenty points of
banned substances: Lipton Cup o' Urine,
Richard Simmons' Guide to the US Men's
Swim Team, The Javelin Rectal Thermometer.
Ralph Nader actually wants to win
the Presidency and as you read it you will
notice in small print the statement that "every
rectal thermometer made by low-maintenance
perennials is Tamara's little sex secret, cleverly
believing there is a road by the evil tire, or a
big muscle guy (title is actually a picture),
great balls of Ralph Nader rectal thermometer sandwich.
Think it's by accident? Think again, thermometer breath!
Even "Great Balls of Ralph Nader" doesn't
overstay its welcome. Joke Of The Month 2001?--
"Collect call from a chink." Ralph Nader: chickens
are misled into preparing to endorse a check.
What's the difference between an oral thermometer
and a rectal thermometer? RALPH NADER.
The chicken's habitat on the original side of the road.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Dinosaur vomit discovered in quarry, in mud,
hayseeds in unwashed hair, dungstain of years
under fingernails, vomit, weasel-piss ... And another thing:
I'm gone off the idea of monkey-gland injections.
This my Land. The Bikini Remover is just
a short step, after all, from the Monkey Gland celebration
of vomit. But it somehow reminded one of those
Swiss monkey-gland clinics or, much more often,
a computer; from ?boot?, collegiate slang for ?FREDDY
FUDDPUCKER HARI-KARK LITTLE BASTARD MAIDEN'S
PRAYER NR 2 MONKEY GLAND SEX?
Take him away to vomit: a) either in the sink,
if he only drank himself a small "Monkey's Gland",
kept for special occasions. It was hot: Good Morning,
Cruel World! They're so charming I want to vomit,
though perhaps it's just the wine ... and-rolls-for-$20,
the Cheez Wiz burger, the monkey burger and
monkey gland sauce, and in general, nickel-and-dime
people to death so often it makes me want
to vomit, that with his money he can afford the best
goat and monkey gland treatments in her widow's peak.
Her lips I've kissed, her glove of bones at her wrist,
that I have held in my hand, her Spanish fly
and her monkey gland. Her Godly History of the Baggots.
I noticed a small stall where an educated woman
was serving freshly brewed fake vomit. How could one
vibrating thing give so much monkey gland sauce
after the grilled steak and the tin bucket?
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Low Frequency Transmitter Site is Clam Lake,
Wisconsin. Our facility is staffed by two
Highly trained security professionals, whose work
on the equipment and antenna system maintains
the antenna right-of-way
Fresh Maine Seafood Systems
with Tahiti Joe's XXX hot pepper sauce--
Make it a "Na Koho Night" tonight
Not saying to turn your head the other way
but simply telling yourself to say out loud:
"I think I have a clam problem."
Butt sex w/ Snappy the Clam--
Government drops Scripps. Watch Clam Feet
Elongate Far From Shell: "How bout a 1-Way, Clam???"
"How bout a 1-Way Clam???" Ok, granted, not much response.
Nobody reads poetry anyway and I
can now see why. In my Vintage Tonka State,
The mobile Clam runs an English Dept.
Parses "Clam Nightmares" into Quoddy Way Cartoons,
clam spooge pearly, left as "evidence"
Wife ordered me to stop blogging--"feed your spirit,
stories that inspire cultural creatives. You know: 'Clam
Chowder for the Soul.' What am I to you,
a complex carbohydrate, pearled
in the Aluminum Shell of the self?"
Clam mask, surf clam, 3" Clam Knives...
The method requires that you know a little about Unix commands
and working from a unix prompt (like "clam 69")
And by the way, clam culture, as it happens
Is ruled by this bitchy little number called "Snappy
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
We love you hypnotic clambake,
Fuel for the road, lochs of dread or midnight rider.
Boob job kinda miffed that I told this guy about OT 3 and Xenu,
but as I pointed out, it's in the papers and on the boob tube now.
Mood: just beachy playing Clambake.
Elvis I don't need to win the battle,
I just need to know I have been...
What did one saggy boob say to the other saggy boob?
Check out Operation Clambake for more information on this dangerous and very silly cult.
Survivor Slut Sarah does a little boob jiggle
that measures its pleasure by the output of a boob tube glowing.
Gelant facilties gravamen,
Cruz nationality quantal doorframe microbiologic.
Rinascimento macrame quintero says
"clambake reappraisal divinity vassal!"
And Elvis' half brother is DAMN ugly,
and yea there was ass-slapping, boob-grabbing, and
helpful evidence to show that Elvis is not only
a caring healer but also a big, sexist boob.
A bolo a boma a bonanza a bone a bong a bonne a bonsai a boob a boor.
A clack a cladoceran a cladode a claim a claimant a claimer
a clam a clambake a clamor or The Inner Secrets Of Scientology.
Fred Durst has a tattoo of Kurt Cobain and Elvis Presley on his man-boob!
Bonitos bonjour bonnier bonniest bonny bonsai bonuses boob boobies booboo.
Then I look over and your boob was hitting me upside the ear.
Tibben flatzen bat pabootie hut clambake.
Blatz claim claimable claimant claimer clairvoyance clairvoyant clam.
Clambake clamber clamberer...
Hey, Mulder, we thought we'd have a bonfire and clambake tonight!
Sitting on a Clambake-waiting for the MAN to come.
Come animalizing the unreasonable,
patching scallop concionator hypocritic milf.seeker.com.
Milk hunter saddening esotericism’s potshard and clambake.
World of Wendy Whoppers,
a veritable bomb squad detail bone detector
disencumbers slobbered paroccipital commonalty complacent.
Camera obscura and hydrocaulus bangbus movies
palaeo diaphoresis clambake, pattened after the bangbus!
So grab your dinghy and get ready for the ultimate clambake!
He lay back on the pillows, rubbed his
hand over his face. His beard was scratchy,
he throat was dry, he skin clammy. Fuck,
he felt like he was getting sick.
Clammy. Fuck. Ellyn closed her eyes
for a second, but when she opened
them she said softly, you can just call me
Gabi's Poker Door. I was all shaky and
clammy. Fuck only knew what he had
in store for me and to say I was apprehensive
is a ridden little fuckin pig fucker.... Pillsbury
doughboy lookin fat bastard dirty clammy fuck.
You make me sick as a matter of vast understatement.