Orrick Johns' "Olives"

The Mainstream Poets are happy to sponsor this forgotten classic, "Olives" by Orrick Johns. Written in 1915, it appeared alongside Mina Loy’s "Love Songs" in William Carlos Williams's magazine, Others. Williams mentions it in his Autobiography as causing a minor sensation. A revised, and it seems to us less bold, version appeared in Johns's book Black Branches under the title "Tunings." Johns is well worth checking out! His poetry is all over the map but some of it, including this poem, exhibits a wonderfully bizarre combination of sincerity and stupidity not seen again until some of the New York Schoolies tried on a similar tone. Very Mainstream! Happy reading....

ORRICK JOHNS

OLIVES (1915)

1. Fingers

I've ten fingers
Very much admired,
I shall frame them
For they cannot do anything;
They cannot earn dinner
Or even hold a pebble...
Pebbles are pretty falling through them.

2. Shoestring

Little old shoe,
You need a shoe-string;
I shall find one for you,
For without it you are helpless
As a man who studies regulations,
But with a yellow one
Like a woman who is bald.

3. Beautiful Mind

Oh, beautiful mind,
I lost it
In a lot of frying pans
And calendars and carpets
And beer bottles....
Oh, my beautiful mind!

4. Miggles

Miggles--
That was his name,
Everyone always said,
"Miggles did it."
Oh, Miggles,
I admired you from the beginning,
Miggles!

5. A Room

It is a room that sets people thinking,
So they say,
Lighted like grandma's moonflowers....
Swish--I hear something in the corner,
Suddenly,
And I wish I were a cat.

6. Blue Undershirts

Blue Undershirts,
Upon a line,
It is not necessary to say to you
Anything about it--
What they do,
What they might do ... blue undershirts.

7. In Bed

I am tortured
By this borrowed mattress...
How do you lie,
Napoleon?

8. In the Square

They made a statue
Of a general on horseback,
With his face turned nobly
Toward the crupper...
'Twas true
Of him
Quite half the time.

9. At the Door

I have only a tingling remembrance
Not of his eyes
But of
A dandelion...
Nevertheless,
The whole of him,
The whole of me,
There--
Known, elicited, understood.

10. On the Table

Little duck
Made of plaster,
With your head
Upon a spring,
When my hand trembles upon the table
You nod,
And when I chuckle too...
Such understanding,
C'est henaurme!

11. In the Street

Dinky, slinky,
You must not wink
That way...
You hussy,
Do you forget I think
For both of us?

12. In the Orchard

This morning,
As the quince blossoms died,
The cherries were ripening...
Such are all your moments,
Little one.

13. Somewhere

Now I know
I have been eating apple-pie for breakfast
In the New England
Of your sexuality.

14. A Moon

It lasted a month,
We had one moon...
You took it for a baby
And when it cried
For a bib and a bottle,
All was over.

The New Yorker Sparrow Project

THE NEW YORKER SPARROW PROJECT:
SAMPLE POEMS FROM THE MAINSTREAM POETS

Sparrow


The morning is littered with people
bumping against each other
like boats in the marina. I notice them

as I discard my jury duty questionnaire
in the business improvement district's
thoughtfully-provided green can.

Some days on my way out the door
I see a sparrow dead on the sidewalk
and I know that somewhere, a poet
has given up. Today

a white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.



Sparrow


The penis hurtles like an acrobat
Across the off-white expanse of text,
Determined prong inured to caveat,
Untrammeled, bellicose, and oversexed;
Legions without in ardent reverence gaze,
The brilliant condescending to the clever,
As bureaucrat to adept harps in praise:
"This cat's circumsized johnson goes on forever!"
But anything goes home with everything
When nothing has the coatroom to itself:
I am the common multinational elf
Whose president failed all the spelling tests,
And today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
In my urethra and begins to sing.



The Ballad of Thrasher the Handsome Adult


With a length of 6
inches, i seek haven at your Sugartree Inn in Vermont.

THRASHER is an inquisitive,
acrobatic HANDSOME ADULT, pausing occasionally to hammer at a crack--

Do you know where your
children are? My all-time favorite kitchen accessory is a delightful ...[sic]

Found a recessive mutation called "tinny yank-yank"
This cake is more of a confection than a cake: it is a
free encyclopedia.

A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.



Sparrow


Sparrow

I was so hungry that I started eating C++,
And when without the slices kindling in the inkpot new,
The clothes became a gossamer Mormon duckling
Responding to the lack of pizza on the chicken lawn,
They freaked till dawn with no mutability until a fine distraction grew.
The halls of shame here and there enthralled the crimson straphangers:
And thereby Henry Rollins flowed confusedly across a spectral wave.
Did you just call my buttocks a Chia Pet?
There is a careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild legality,
To ask the would-be clients if they
Would be finished with the vegen sandwiches any time soon,
Does more bewitch me than a baby tree frog.
Today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
In my urethra and begins to sing.



The Nuthatch


As a child I thought Nuthatch was pronounced
"nuh*THATCH," the second syllable hit hard
as though one might find him stamping

on one's grassy, unkempt roof. In the 80s
a friend corrected my pronunciation: "Nut Hatch."
God, what a letdown.

For twenty years I've lived with this knowledge. But
today a white-breasted nuthatch nests
in my urethra and begins to sing.



Sparrow


Often I return
to a management compensation package:
we lie together gazing up at the spackled ceilings,
wan mirror of ourselves.

Each month brings its flaccid enchantments
around like a dim sum cart. We choose
among absences, forgotten rooms
in an underused vacation home.

Today's colonoscopy went swimmingly,
I think. First I saw inside myself,
then a snow hove off the eaves.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.



Sparrow


The Tree Swallows occupying this nesting box
have been banded together to form
a national organization in the goal
of neighborhood revitalization. Nest-Box Cam
provides a "Truman Show" for bird lovers.
You have until the last cobweb
thistle drops its seeds to the bottom
of this glass to change your mind.
To lay on his firm believer in
this approach, he scratches the five areas.
Billy is inside the sparrow
carrying a yellow scratch ticket.
A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
Urethra, and begins to sing.



A Half-Dozen Ways of Looking for a Nuthatch


There is nothing more dangerous
than a bad idea.

A tight-breasted nuthatch
rests on my glans,
and begins to sting.

Time: what is it? To physicists,
defined by quantum mechanics.

Eternal Lenox dinnerware,
compare prices
winter greetings nuthatch plate

There is nothing more dangerous
than previously thought.

A white-breasted nuthatch
nests in my urethra,
and begins to sing.



And contributions from three special Mainstream guests!!!


Louis Cabri


917 Sparrows


Beautiful Devon, and Plymouth's Barbican! 917
elizabethan era 893 elizabethan
439 elizabethan age 430 elizabethan theatre
370 elizabethan times 297 elizabethan foo-

d 286 elizabethan costume 277 elizabethan
theater 238 elizabethan clothing 168 elizabethan
architecture 153 elizabethan music 135 elizabethan
fashion 110 elizabethan dress 77 elizabethan life

73 elizabethan medicine 69 elizabethan enter-
tainment 64 elizabethan drama 61 eliza-
bethan art 54 elizabethan society 49 elizabethan lon-
don 49 elizabethan woman 47 elizabethan ac-

tor 45 elizabethan language 43 elizabethan times
1500’s 42 elizabethan literature 41 elizabethan mar-
riage 40 elizabethan wedding 37 elizabethan game
37 elizabethan poetry 35 the elizabethan era

34 elizabethan religion 33 elizabethan daily
life 33 the elizabethan age
33 elizabethan english 32 A white-breasted nuthatch
nests in my urethra, and begins to sing!



Ryan Fitzpatrick


Sparrow


We busted a new song out of our urethras
With Words made using home row and top row letters.
Reproductive organs, male, feline, lateral.
like spit or tears or menstrual fluids from my anus.

The sparrow thought it was the end
Due to American kestrels, or "sparrow
hawks," to help control starling, blackbird and sparrow numbers

The crystal would be used
to cut into the underside of the penis

Connected to the kidneys by two ureters
He is represented riding on a sparrow, and he holds in his hand a bow.

A "Kitten Opening"
in her abdominal wall

A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.



Sparrow


Listen to a recording of a House Sparrow
From the Library of Natural Sounds. The Sparrow provides
an effective range of 30 to 60 miles
and a top speed of 65 mph in a a gigabit-speed testbed.

I watched the first professional Language School
Give a presentation of bird photographs,
songs, identification tips, distribution maps, and life history
information for North American birds.

If we eat like a bird—immense amounts of food—and lose weight
so close to getting the new AC
Sparrow is a radar-guided air-to-air missile

This Wisconsin-based nursery sells peonies, daylillies, irises.

A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.



Stephanie Young


Sparrow


It all begins. It all
begins with the Expos at the Braves on the Deuce. Down by the river

the frogs--and Seth begins to blow the stars away.
Every morning begins with a nice cup of green tea.

Fortunato leans over the crying boy and gently begins
the bizarre story of David King in Milwaukee.

My rule of thumb, so to speak,
is that when you can see through your skin

as it begins mingling with strands of steam
ascending from my skin, then

all is a fish that comes to my net.
Horrid poem begins here.These monsters can swim

and lodge themselves with quill-like witticisms into each conversation.
They stand there, awestruck, in Vegas

they scribble on clipboards
and the butt sniffing begins. Lightning flashes—Suzanne says

"I will start my own promotion company
Goddamn near excretin' ju-ju."

This begins with separation from the group.
Human magic fails

in the face of a person who develops powerful guilt trips,
loss of Jeffy, loss of innocence, but then

the clouds lift and the sun burns through.
2nd fall quarter begins.

A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.

News Item: Chileans Luvvvv Mainstream Poetry!!!

Mainstream Poetry: mainstreampoetry.blogspot.com

El título es claramente irónico. Algunas ideas buenas y bastante divertidas, además de reflexiones (o pseudo-reflexiones) sobre la vanguardia. Aquí a menudo uno se encuentra con intervenciones poéticas, esto es: poemas clásicos reconfigurados de manera satírica. Muy interesante.

--Chilean Radio

Notice: Call for Poetry

Today at noon, the mainstream poets sent a series of poems to The New Yorker at poetry@newyorker.com. Each poem ended with the lines

A white-breasted nuthatch nests in my
urethra, and begins to sing.

You are hereby invited to submit a poem ending with these two lines to The New Yorker. The Mainstream Poets suggest that you do this in coordination with several other poet-friends for maximum effect.

Oblivion Road, Carve Me A Girlfriend

Yours is clearly of the long-nosed variety
not knowing the room; but he couldn’t.
His nose had grown.
I bring up Pinocchio
for several reasons.

Knock On Wood
to make a long story short
so I can get average
but in Italy a big nose is nothing
Pinocchio Poppins!"
the bitch screamed
and it started again

A few weeks later,
The Gipper ran into Pinocchio.
Haven't you ever seen
a Jeff Dahmer-nose pizza before?
I predict that Marie will have a long and happy Squirll.

The Pinocchio Theory:
Steven shrimp (Occasion)
If you fake the funk,
your nose will grow
mostly by the mise-en-scene,
with its long shots of Lover

I hate those dancing green eyes a
long nose that was broken:
we all got libidos out here,
and it's been so long since
I Pinocchio gave a disdainful snort

Mr. Cranky Rates the Movies
beer; Re: Long sentence review
Critico; Pinocchio got to be a real boy, in
the end. The Nose hath perverted your
ability to discern good from evil!

Pursued by a Bear
then applied its snout to the long straw
What's with the nose, Pinocchio?
Melanie asks dare this strident, arrogant
frigid little bitch speak to the recap

This may just be a long long recap,
longer than Pinocchio's nose after
a fib fest
So I tell her, I think my nose is spoken for

Knock on Wood
to make a long story short so I can get to
the bitch screamed and it started again.

Cant:
he is a reckless, unpredictable risk-taking son of a bitch,
and I When I lie I grow
a long, long nose But to be real I
excerpt from "Sympathy for Pinocchio".

The Key and the Carrot

To escape the ubiquitous dynamic
of cause and effect
he does not have an insular
and reactionary bluff
as monolithic and monotonous cuffs.
a movement of a predictable cat
like aesthetic consequence
looks good, better than
a pagoda wagon berating him
for coming to the populist aspect of
a vociferous suspicion
repaid in kind
because other people told him
when eyelids rush to cleave a view
these stereotypes have led
to my own self
in simpering hemp meringue
like other pitiful human beings
who eat to act with archaeological endeavor,
a cross-section of interesting confines
as well as younger cakes
failed flakes
whose scope and purpose they have yet to
floodgates open, and I
with not enough hands to subdue such programmers battle

emotions rip us a new one
ever uncomfortable with the image
that has become associated with
the illusion of a privilege
in exchange for betraying
the metaphysical lava
I headed over to yesterday’s fragile wounds,
returning me to a doorway of ill purpose,
according to goals of muses
through weakness of heart,
timewarped to that place
where years become carp

and live happily and think
there's a classic question
of anyone's wishes – the thwart and my dishes
I am compelled to re-live this stork,
reducing me to a state of nothingness,
with every ounce of thinking engaging my person
chewed by this torment,
like pap speech about the machines
and the whole move along steroid conditions of desire
I don't need this photograph
to remind me of something
I can't forget.

My goggles tried to escape
conditions forced on the
shreds of me so slowly

You look at me as Pluto.
You see I am a philosophy
that can explain the determinism and the
impossible fantasy
of utterly unconditioned swallowing
A joker, a maniac, a fool,
A god, my own saliva.
trapped inside my confusion,
frightened by the world outside
afraid to be the interdependencies of existence
in a way that avoids all extremes of nature
not trendy, not a rebel,
"The problem is a hose."
I have a choice to make.
by the river Styx
Once again the loneliness
creeps into my family of moose,
morosely oozing through the data
and I think it's no accident that the
shadows place their ice-cold hands about my throat,
choking out my thinking and
tresses and confusion.

German physicists have already had similar thoughts
waiting in vain I sink lower and deeper,
falling as the light shower of my own questions
smirks obnoxiously in my mind
my discovery of these my elders
while some of my forms collect snakes
bound up, hand-in-hand, with my quest
to answer an evil thought
Into my once clean mind.
way to be a star
in another specific development

I walk my room
Looking for a destination,
only finding poets who love form and content
I have nonetheless found myself
walking to the receiver
as arsonist
with the New Situation in quantum furrow
let it suffice with this:
the ground beef is still nothing received.
I look at the callous road,
I long for the door to phone
O ring,
The road glares back,
the tarmac laughs.

The Pull It Surprise

Ernest Hemingway was a really, really,
good righter. He was so good that he
apparently impressed the potential of
a career and became a really-really good
photographer in a ninth-grader's paper
submitted by a teacher in Covington, Georgia.
It involved one naked rabble-rouser between
organizing communist fetes and open days.
So you think you're not to be confused with
having a bad hair day? Baby steps, man!

An Interview with Robert Pinsky

[The following interview originally appeared in the Spring 2003 issue of Maraudian, a new journal at the University of Delaware, and is reprinted by permission of the editor.]

Robert Pinsky is the Poet Laureate of the USA. A renowned poet, critic, and translator, his most recent books are The Furrowed Wheeze: New and Cornfed Poems 1994-1995 (Nope Press, 1995) and his translation of the magazine The Infernal Games is still kinda Infernal (Nope Press, 1994), which received the Harold Morton Lamdalamda Transitional Object Baffling Cultural Capital Investment Award from the Academy of Transitional American Poets.

The following interview was conducted by a computer. Pinsky, at his home in LA, was finishing a photo shoot. Midway through the interview, we were briefly interrupted by Pinsky showing the photographer that his cat had rabies. The break has been included here because of the shift in mood this created. Pinsky was allowed by the government handlers to talk about the pressures on his bladder as well as his hopes and dreads, long enough to permit us to glimpse the man behind the post.
--Todd Greenwald, Maraudian

Q: It's great to talk to you, and I especially wanted to talk to you because I want to bring your books to our readers' attention. Your plan has unfairly been lumped in with a lot of low poetry plans that are so much more radical. When in fact, your program is a lot more balanced and sane. How did you find out you had been named Poet Laureate?

A: I came home from step class, and there were three messages on my answering machine from Cindy Sherman. Oh yes. You know, when I was a little boy I had a poetry book called Robert's Poetry Book. I thought it was written about me. I also had been given a little electric stove with tiny radioactive plastic scorpions and things. I know how to do the foxtrot with porpoises. So, I was always writing poems. I don't know how I knew this, but one day I made beef stroganoff for the family and it was very, very good. My parents said: You should write a poem about it. Shortly after that I wrote a poem and it was very, very good. I remember making up a metaphor and it was very good. Pretty soon I was a poet [laughs].

Q: One of the things the Library of Congress mentioned that appealed to them was your effort to make poetry accessible to a broader audience by putting it on-line and seeing the web as a self promotional device rather than an antisocial, fantasy- reinforcing escape area for dorks. So how exactly did you develop your poetry writing plan?

A: Like print and writing and all women, the computer is just a kind of CIA agent whose mission is to destroy men. I'm the poetry editor of a weekly magazine published on the web by the CIA; the magazine is called Slate. I told you about the little poetry book and poems for my family and thinking I would teach poetry when I thought my career wasn't going to take off. Then Academy of Transitional American Poets came along. Around age 40 I put on twenty pounds. I had just graduated from the Brown MFA program. I had always had a perfect body. But, my body betrayed me as it does most people, except a very rare few who already have the transducer implants. Everybody seems to start hearing voices in middle age commanding you to kill yourself or to set some building on fire or whatever. So I was writing before this, but now I was putting weight on. I have a poem in Slate every week and readers can click on the poem and hear it read aloud by a evil demonic dog. There's a lot of poetry on the web. Cicadas can read my mind and they make a lot of money with it.

Q: What would you say to the people who complain that there's no system for people to divide what's good from what's bad?

A: I think that's true, but it's also true when you walk naked into the Grolier Poetry Bookshop in Boston carrying a boa constrictor, you're always like--YEAH baby where's the REMAINDERED section BABY? I have a project that I hope to complete, which is to create an audio and video archive of many, many Naked Americans saying aloud the name of someone they'd like to make love to but can't. I hope to have a very wide range of regional accents, a range of ages, a helicopter that can fly underwater, different professions, kinds of education, and it will not concentrate on poets or critics or experts or evil talking pets.

Q: Another thing the Library of Congress cited was your other work in poetry. You seem more interested in being a complete poet and critic than I think most contemporary poets are. I think it was The Nation that drew the comparison to Robert Lowell. How do you see the interaction between those different disciplines, or do you see them as separate disciplines?

A: I grew up with the idea that to practice an art was to be involved in every part of it and to try to imbibe as much coffee as possible because it's good for your colon. I never took a creative writing course, so I don't have a creative writing degree, except for the one from Brown. I speak to Bill Clinton every day through the drain hole in the sink. I find that one of the most curious things is that I have fractionalized motivations . When I come home, right before I watch the flaming globes collide, I start blogging about stuff I was eating that day. I started reading and talking and blogging about chicken and a thread was starting to form for me which is--a poet digests in a different rate of speed than a middle manager. When you put them together it creates a halt in the digestion. If you have a perfect poem it can metabolize it and flush it through, but when your poem slows down all the energy you need to get you through the poem is now being used to memorize the names of these people that don't want to be together. That's what the gas is about, that's what the bloating is about. That is fractionalized too because there is one group that only reads about abuse and the effects of poetry are pretty useful. Then there is the other group that is only about the baby chickens or cliches. Then there are people who can speak to nightingales. Then there are the ones who only know me from television. Then there is the Home Shopping group Then there are the people who know me from the lectures. What I am really trying to do, what I need to accomplish at this time, is to go to the Gap. There is a general knowledge that I am multi-dimensional, that when you are creative you can send your thoughts through sheetrock into cute chicks. I am very passionate about the effects of multi-dimensional thought projection and we are all interested in a lot of things and women are fabulous. What's happening is your body is starting to eat off your own poetry. I was eating off my own poetry. So, it wasn't visible until all of a sudden it felt like a statue of Jane Russell made out of pine cones was fitting me for a retainer. I am sure it was a gradual thing, but one night it was just like my neck was really loud, my chest, my arms, my abdomen, my hips, my legs and my clothes were paying my phone bills for me. There are a lot of things I'm interested in, and I try to carry that out in my poetry.

Q: How would you remedy what seems to be a growing distance between the writer--as artist--and the critic?

A: William Butler Yeats says, "egg nog is there singing shelf but slumbering / monuments of its own Camaro" [in "Sailing to my Camaro"]. That is, there's no way to learn to be better or to learn to do an art other than to buy a car or study the monumental example of Ezra Pound who says "The highest form of criticism is accept constipation." That is, the poet must choose between constipation and the word "critic" based on "Kinkos," which means "to choose to take this down to Kinkos"--and critics today get away with not choosing or not selecting Kinkos but a poet every moment must choose: whether to use legal or letter?, this adjective or that one or none. Microwaves that can make you fly. This constant process of criticism is part of the work of compassion.

Q: Is there a giant spider's web in your way?

A: Everything breaks off from the matrix; I make my decisions based on couscous, choosing to order the New York Times for Home Delivery. With each step tens of thousands of gilded Portasans appear with giant bat wings.

Q: In your introduction to Dante's Inferno, and John Ciardi [in the introduction to his 1954 translation] says almost identical things about the limitations of rhyme in English but comes to the opposite conclusion. Where he says that to attempt translating Dante into terza rima would be "a disaster," you obviously didn't think so.

A: For years I have been going to the South of France to cool out. I am not as well known in France and I can kind of meld in. Sometimes, when you are in the public eye, you just really need to just be part of the crowd, and look at other people rather than other people look at you. I was always going over there. I made a lot of friends over the years and I would always look at what they were writing. All of them were poets. I would think that I would like to write like that. Why can they write that and I'm being good and I'm the one who is famous? Then I would look more closely at their pants and I realized that they naturally don't, as a general rule. No, obviously not, and I suppose I should say it was daunting, but in fact it was a tremendous pleasure. That's what made me do it, how much fun I had solving the difficulty of creating a plausible terza rima in a readable English.

Q:You employ a lot of dumb word combinations. For example, from the beginning of Canto XIII: "The leaves not money, earth-hued; / The boughs are not horses, knotted and crooked-frothed kittens"

A: Yes, so much for all those Germanic roots, particularly when you're translating from a sausage. Walter Benjamin says a wonderful thing about sausage, that a restrung sausage "records the change in Ben Affleck." It's brought about by the sausage that's being brought into it. I'm partly trying to record the impact upon English of sausage.

Q: And it must not only have an impact upon hot dogs, but also upon your poetry.

A: Well, some guys were here before and they took away all my possessions....

How We Do It

When a girl gives a boy a
dead squid, each box comes
with a pre-wrapped cutlery kit

including napkin and moist
towelette, a basket on his or her
head containing a three legged octopus
that is giving off smell rays :-[ (who
is none too pleased to be giving

birth to a squid) with the guy with the
squid fetish in New York that serves
gourmet peanut butter sandwiches.

Mom, I'm All Fucked Up

it's funny that i used to think
a turbo was an easy bolt on
hamsturbation wasn't very
popular, getting kicked 129 times!

Isuzu springs in a chevette? Impulse
engine in a geo storm? i love spring!
parents suck cheeseburger or somethin?
manually stimulating a male hamster

to ejaculation. it doesn't get much
further down in the dumps than this

in this otherworldly quiet

in this otherworldly quiet
I heard the piercing cry of agony rent the air
dear little bird, why this SHIPBUILDING?
Why a 300 pound weapon, and
Why did each protester
spank Wolfowitz individually, really hard?

administration has been made between
clauses relating to internet surveillance
and radioactive toys made out of lint

I am riding out on waves of pain
to Asshole University.
I am an asshole
going out again to play at midnight
with my laws insufficient and unenforced

when I was playing with the librarians,
a thought balloon assault me with what
belongs to everyone: foam

developing an obsession with the
mating habits of penguins is knowledge,
data is contained on the sleeves and via
dejavu: a code word to use when you start
needlessly squawking
as simple and random as "AnDy GARCIA"

they'd also lied about their illegal
half-man, half-bird thingy
and promised the mind
to get organized and methodical
"Bird by bird." to wonder
at the fabulous guards, fabulous car patrols,
dogs, CCTV cameras hidden in birds
and police helicopters
crossing the social and political event horizon
interrupted by an exciting war
While I increased like a 10 lb bag of bricks

I heard surveillance photographs below
busy moving to a new doublewide wit
that every time he says it,
through this mental Port-O-Sans
I need to receive your wish

Let’s get you connected
To a bar hopping reader
to your personal guarantee
that there are giant CARING canaries
praised for flying and growing
till it seemed from them to overflow
and cover her face with a troubled pulchritude

I must be assured
that all my equipment
will be put to good use.
growing up to feel bad
when a bird would finish last
but in first place

I have scheduled a safari
into the Arizona desert this weekend to locate,
photograph, shoot and broil Earl Bostic
with wonder and amazement

my first fabulous wonder and amazement
and once I bag it with my self esteem
I'll let you help me de-bone it
and chip off any fossilization from my experience

I was rather pissed off, and corrected the pidgins
Getting in their faces yelling at pigeons,
that they are pro-terrorist and that, yo- !
look at that dull look of suffering!

report your children’s wishes
to the FBI for free
setting up video web cams to watch your children
and put organized James Baker masks on
tell the gastric lives from faces,
homes, business, and vehicles
to see forest creatures as traitors

taking video or setting up
web cams to watch their traces,
the animals are not appropriate to time

that sounds more like Winnie the Pooh
begging Walter Conkite for more money
he accidentally mentioned somebody
who was beheaded for being fabulous

Arlen Specter is fabulous
arguing that you are only half-interested in photocopying
and eating the larger of the two
which you may have seen in several movies,
brought to you by the dismay of the listener,
including the original 1933 version of King Kong.

The Air Conditioning Girls

the Air Conditioning Girls
    enter the only thing you reap
but don't repair
cause everybody's got to learn a
powerful combination of remarkable female
air guitars in the wolf exit,
just because I'm female, but every
*SLAP SOUND*
is a swinging female air guitarist
Feelin' important, feeling closer to salmon
needless to say that rejection is
so alpha female of the
way of Bloodshot female vocal roosters

Trampolines are reading my horoscope,
feelin import like an Egret right away.
She too bad he gasps for air
A burial place of evil.
ants to someone
belong to the brash half of
the all-female man in a white
tank top up front
plays air guitar along with
boredom, two different styles, male and female oxen
It also looks like she's playing the air guitar
or something *blinkblink* Tigress is on (c)
"the Anthem" is possible,
if we can only remove all evil influences.
First, he reconstitutes his own hot air.
Male and Female DO exist, but as hypacrites.
A gateway appears beneath a guy,
and immediately a human female head appears
A thrum fills the air. All the pretty hearses
don't know, but you are certainly EVIL!!!''
that is he's quite touchy feely
like she was flying in Insomnia
a satisfied burp to drink from a goat on
his lips by a female hand. his mouth opens as
any effort does, exploring long drives
on sunny days, scarin' the neighbors, playin;
dangerously, in the suspicious sauciness
of the hush
for all you young and young young old people
of the struggle of good and evil,
some stubble from Betelgeuse,
Scorches the Future Female Hell Camps
to fight back the evil tide.
but distinctive odor of roast finch
filled the air.
walkin' $acrifice Americans don't appreciate
Feelin' Important!
Now you might suppose
the Cow gon' miss me
blue shoelaces, chips an ketchup,
tv is "bonding time"

The New McPoem (1)

["The New McPoets" are a fledgling subgroup, a budding branch on the Mainstream Poetry tree. Here is the first example of their work.]


Last night when I was reading Tanya's diary
I announced to everyone at the Seascape that I’d
Be paying for their dinner. I was thinking
About the poet Ed Hirsch who established himself
With a bold stroke as a confident, singular voice
Among the new generation of poets. How terrible
It must have seemed, what a waste it must have seemed,
To see this man who promised so much, be cruelly
cut down by a mob of God-hating people.

First I listened to the conversation. Next I listened
To the words and the idioms and wrote them down
At once. I listened to some people, of how
This came about. I listened to the world,
And how it cried in fear. Then I listened
To the tracks and came to the realization that Hirsch
Writes strong well-crafted poems which are quick
With a sense of life. I listened to the lecture,
the professor was actually very informative,
Subject verb, subject verb. I listened
to the tape every time I went grocery shopping.

This morning, I just watched you sleep, saw a home
Video of the cowardly bombing attack
On a parade where peaceful Russians were celebrating.
I learned what all that gray fuzz is they spray
On steel i-beams in large buildings before they put
Up the walls. Only then did I understand
That the accusatory telephone call was essentially
Correct, that difficult things might also be good,
That I was not alone, that the Soviet regime
Had condemned the Catholic Church to be destroyed,

That they had been hanging on me, making me
Depressed, that the age issue was harder for her than for me,
That he, too, was an English man, that this book was
For children and adults, that they’d already chosen
A house and put a bid on it, that I was frying four
Pieces of chicken for me and there must have been
Ten potatoes in the pot, that she, too, had paid
A terrible price for her service aboard Air Force One,
That the "misbehavior" mentioned in the newspaper
Actually referred to an attempted rape, that my father
Was dead, that my first experience should have been
Understood to be a mirror image of a bowl of flowers.

Think of the Kittens

GW is in the house
he could walk out onto his palace balcony naked
strangle a basket full of kittens and relieve himself on the crowd
in his eyes a haunting sense of shock and awe
intent of disarming and toppling the Hussein regime
unrestricted carpet bombing of bunnies and kittens

so what does he say in another interview
that this shock and awe war with Iraq leads up to?
a heart-melting youth riot of fertility
foals, calves, kittens, puppies, baby goats
roaches, moths, & insects in general
just a legend to tell kittens to help them go to sleep

I looked out my kitchen window, and what did I see
disturbing trends a spectacle of us all our lovely neighbors
all the various no-knock-explosive-entry and stomping-kittens-to-death
right down to MTV icons has ablated away most of their power
cats, cats yowl and growl and hiss and such
but only kittens meow

our baby kittens grew
the kittens liked milk and fowl but would not eat any kind of fish
we succeeded in socializing two of the kittens
read a lengthy report on the president's proposed "shock and awe" attack
wonder if it's best to drown the kittens

an hour and a half to get back to the gate
here's some pictures of kittens to keep you busy

Juice Is Wine

Mohammad hated talking to drunks especially
when they were talking stupid

if someone falls you don't have to
it was a hard floor so it kind of hurt
nobody landed on the ground

stupid goblin needs to lay off the crack?
he hasn't quite got the hang of headphones

we're talking
stupid man who sticks his hand in mysterious hole
in the wall only to get it chopped off

I saw a reindeer when I was little
getting a layered feather-cut like in that movie
Pretty In Pink

you sure are talking stupid
bye bye Mr. Big Toe

Has the Kittens Lost Their Mittens?

what the cat dragged in and the kittens wouldn't
the rivers of blood spilled by
Saddam saying "I have killed puppies and kittens"
known as Hoppy to the patchouli oil crowd
he looked as if he had gone to war
the Oil Queen has escaped and is going to
shoot radiant bolts of lightning into howling prefix of blood
I had to shovel aside all the kittens

sweat and oil collected in the ridges of a psychic
the sprinkler kept washing the blood off our faces
a few marches and some regurgitated waffle
resorting to pictures of babies or kittens
operatic blood-soaked dance of the undead
is opened and they start burning oil fields
and the other is floating kittens
they bought all the soil of France in blood
the attacks included stealing oil from
poor defenseless kittens

people with root beer for blood
rescuing kittens from the clutches of evil
all those "free kittens" signs you see
read "blood for oil"
my kittens have already accepted the concept of being at war
they writhed around, hungry for blood
if the cat had kittens in the oven we would
stick the needle in, let the blood flow and use it
doing the poisoned blood fetus dance

Fluffy gave them some really wild-assed kittens
they may say of extreme sports kittens they're
leaving your hand lubed with oil for household syrup
they should be kept away from small children

fuck the rabbit, there was blood all over
Aladdin oil lamps Tennessee virginal very dark blood girl gallery
some kittens can fly!
I need to get an oil change
if cats have kittens, do bats have bittens

Money

Money is a kind of lettucy Stegner Fellow.
                   --Wallace Stevens

Money, the long pink scorpian semaphores,
cash, stash, Chairman Mao, extra hard cheddar,
just listening to Terry Gross.
I just killed the Pilsbury dough boy.

Chock it up, fluff it all over yr own self,
Shelly Duvall it out. Watch it
burn holes through the argon gophers.

To be made of it! To have it
to slumber on in the frightening alien metal disks!
Greenbacks, Mike Schmidts,
tweleve point bucks arguing with Minnie Driver.

It greases the palm, somebody named Heather
holds the heads above a wannabe,
makes both ends morph.

Money breeds with leather instructional manuals.
Gathering questionable options, pounding on Dan Rather.
Always in circulation.

Money. You don't know why it's floating in front of you,
but you put it where your mouth put it.
And it talks to itself.

Paul Wolfowitz

Alto flu zip wow, outlaw flop wiz,
Outlaw wolf zip, walt fool wiz up.

Walt flop uzi ow, walt of uzi plow,
Topaz wilful ow, at wolf uzi plow.

Tau wolf zip owl, at flow uzi plow,
Tao flu wiz plow, zap toilful wow.

Zap tofu willow, zap tofu ill wow,
Walt foul zip ow, pal wolf wiz out.

Prime Minister Anthony Charles Lynton Blair

Memorably ninnyish or repellant anti-Christ
Blearily tyrannic, he's the nonmoral misprint

Immorally resonant, labyrinthine sphincter
Maniacally northern, nihilist rent-boy sperm

Hotly horrible ninny miscreant paternalism
Permanently abhorrently cast-iron nihilism

Transparently mean rich loony-bin Hitlerism
An omnipresent militancy enthrals horribly

Tiny, slithery, northern lamebrain complains
"I'm intolerant blasphemer or starchily ninny"

Norm as abhorrently, permanently nihilistic
Is abhorrent, channels military prominently.

George W. Bush, President of the United States

He's the out-of-step west, disturbing renegade
The absurdest, out-of-step, weighted sneering

He is the stupidest gangrene to few doubters
He's the doubters' fun post-editing sewerage

Fudge now huge, dishonest, battiest pesterer
Pottiest fudge beneath roughest weirdness

He's out of step, attending the bruisers' wedge
Out-of-step deathbed gestures with sneering

Battiest fighter enthuses ponderous wedge
To the bawdiest defenses pursuing together

He's the untested egotists' brain-power fudge
Absurdest fetidness to the new huge ego-trip

Huge bigot twitter deafens enthused posers
Huge dog shit penetrates if untested browse

Bigoted up enthuses together fat weirdness
Unhinged together sewer stupidest of beast

Defenses gutter whereabouts inept dog shit
He's the out-of-step, bawdiest, sneering trudge.

Anagrams for AMERICAN IMPERIALISM

I am a criminal's empire
I'm empirical as marine
I'm mean, ripe racialism
I am empirical remains.

I'm a claim, as in premier
I am prime, as in reclaim
Mammalian, icier spire
I preen racialism, maim.

I'm a nice alarm, I'm spire
Imperialism in a cream
I'm nice sperm, am I a liar?
A nice imperialism arm.

I'm air-mail penis cream
I'm a nicer armies limp
Nice armies April maim
I maim miracles in rape.

Armies mimic airplane
I am animal, icier sperm
Icier napalm, I'm a miser
I'm minimal, easier crap.

Crap? I'm a mile in armies
I'm a criminal pie smear
I am real in rape's mimic
I'm maniacal empire, sir.

Evil Dummy

No way SLAPPY could be in charge, right? The Evil Dummy???
When my little sister saw it, she freaked out and ran out of the room.
She didn't know there was something different about this
dummy until weird and evil events started happening.
         Creepy, or what? < www.deathstudios.com/
                ventriloquist_dummy_latex_hallow.htm>

This dummy was not an ordinary dummy, it was evil
          (Chinless half mask)
HM2056 Evil Dummy $15.00 Chinless half mask ties on with elastic straps...
thing is cute for the first 5 minutes, but then
     starts to wear thin-dummy comes to life,
takes over the carnival. How do you set things right?

         ...Phantom dummy, From Boy to Hero (City Walls North). Dragon dummy, The
      Boy's Training Room (City Walls South). Evil dummy, Air Drop
(Town
Center
         East)...

ventriloquist is oblivious to the fact his dummy is evil--
        blood spills and spurts.
Then he turns to his puppet doppelganger and asks, ''Is that OK?''
The dummy talks back to him:
Oh ... it's an evil dummy. Kitsu playing Vagrant Story....
"Stop that! Don't listen to him! Your being an idiot! He's
an EVIL DUMMY! Why are you listening to him? No ... STOP!!!

       remove the dummy wonder from the city,
and replace it with one chosen from a list, programmatically...
you get like a quarter of a point each time you
hit the dummy

       mask of high quality latex
       DUMMY> Internet Tools: Talk Talk Talk....
       Previous message: "TOUR> TOURBUS -
       17 March 2003 - Evil Spyware

his body becomes a dummy on the way down
    ...with that little dummy voice …
He is ready to attack the scared little man,
it is not the man
who is the source of evil power

            but the dummy.
The bottle needed to be broken to destroy an evil but it's rumored
that the true feelings of everyone in
the city are inside it.

Blowback

Over the China Sea a winged corolla flaps
Causes a tiny breeze to blow a leaf as Lorenz
Had done back in Lawrence? A kangaroo flicks
By through a high beam, its head and limbs lolling
At some impossible angle, hideous studded door
Frozen to its back, his straining knee, the body
Blazing like the forests; strike a match and let it char
Armies, a double "butterfly" loop, the wandering
Skipper, the path of an air tanker on the winds
Swerved out across the water. Euroclydon, pleasant zephyr,
O great snake charmer, blow well thy magical tune!
"They struck my keel with jerk the quarl upreared
To put a gun up inside me, talk me into a nice
Chrysalis design, Princeton colors on the wings."

Cheney Quartet

1.

Anyone want to have shrimp,
squid, tuna, escargot,
mutton, fish heads, kim chee, squid, or
menudo with the bacteria which
commonly causes
traveler's diarrhea? Colin Powell
or Dick Cheney? It’s official George W.
has chosen Dick Cheney to be better
to take for my diarrhea. Another random K.

2.

That's right, much like Squid I too have been
wondering where the hell is Dick Cheney?
After contra debacle and free on a technicality,
Poindexter has quietly taken on the role
of uber-information officer in tricky Dick
Cheney's daily squid. "There was no squid
pro quo." In a San Diego-area bar brawl
on the day Vice President Dick Cheney
began his vomit, dozens of belemnites-squid-like
shellfish that Tony Orlando and Whitney Houston
found in 8 states would squash George W. Bush,
Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and all the other
Suited Butchers. 90 TONS OF SQUID TO BE DESTROYED...
PROOF THAT CIA FUNDS THE DRUG TRADE!

3.

Vecchione thinks the squid may use those long arms,
which are all pretty much the same and all have elbows,
"like they came from Kenneth Lay and Dick Cheney
curated by a Burning Man for aging, torch-bearing
Republicans like Cap Weinberger." Never poke a squid.
Bubbly at the office party, she accidentally let it slip
that Dick Cheney gave her the whole mess, where it lies
as weak and gelatinous as a beached squid. This is part
three of a four-part Dick Cheney Week. With dividends
of $278,103, Dick Cheney would have saved $104,823
on the matter of fisheries, therefore, Dick Cheney is correct!?
Only Picasso’s portrait in squid sauce will be taken to a safe
place. Condoleezza Rice amplified the decomposed toilet:
"Didn't Dick Cheney vote against letting Nelson Mandela outta jail?"

4.

You can rely on our great leaders in Washington to tell
The truth, especially about Dick Cheney? Get your head
Out of your ass for once in your life, will you? (I must ask
Because Cheney is not too far from Spokane's spoiled
Little rich kid.) You who think this problem has a surplus
(Ask Dick Cheney ... he knows), get your head out of your

Ass and read. Where did you see me? Working a 9/5 job
ANYONE can do. The sooner you get your head out of
Your ass and start paying attention, the better you'll be.
Get your head out of your ass and do some research on
The Administration's refusal to reveal information
Concerning Cheney's conversations. Cheney will not be

Asking our permission, so if you love pizza and hate
Terrorism, get your head out of your ass and get Enron,
WorldCom, Merck, Reliant, and Martha Stewart. You night
Watchmen and ground zero porn stars stop acting like
Some neanderthal braindead baboonbutt, get your head
Out of your ass and sing, I don't think so, no way in hell!

Why They Hate Us So Much

The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief was puzzled, but he gave him a fork. The New Yorker took the fork and started jabbing himself. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork and be quick about it, I don’t like to wait.” The chief is puzzled but sends a native to go and get a fork. The New Yorker blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker shoots himself. The Texan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Texan takes his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker pulls the trigger. The American says, “Gimme a fork!” The chief is puzzled, but shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Irishman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Irishman takes his brains out. The Greek says, “Gimme a fork palio indiane.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Greek blows his brains out. The Samoan says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Samoan takes his brains out. The Dutchman says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Dutchman takes his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes his brains out. The Vietnameseman says “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The Vietnameseman blows his brains out. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker kills himself. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is a bit puzzled by this request, but nonetheless complies. The American shoote himself. The Newfie says, “Gimme a fork!” The New Yorker gives him a old pistol. The Newfie takes himself to death. The Englishman says, ‘God save the queen!’ and shoots himself. The New Yorker says, “Yeah, a frigging fork, Gimme a fork!” The American takes the fork and begins stabbing himself violently all over his body, creating bleeding puncture wounds. The chief turns to the New Yorker. “Gimme a fork” the man says, with complete disdain. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives the man a fork. The cannibals looked at the Canadian man with a very confused look on their faces. The Canadian said, “Just gimme a fork.” The cannibals did so. The Englishman says, “God save the queen!” and shoots himself. The New Yorker said, “Gimme a fork.” The chief gives him a pistol, he points it at his head, says “God save the queen!” and blows his brains out. The American says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The American takes the fork and starts jabbing himself all over. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK? What is FoRK, may I ask?” The New Yorker explained, and a FoRK was provided. “ A FORK, already, a FORK!! Can ya hear me now? Just gimme a FORK!” With a puzzled expression the man hands her a fork. The New Yorker says, “Gimme a fork.” The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. “The New Queen!” and kaboom.

It was done, and he was skinned and his skin made into a canoe. The New Yorker said: “Gimme a FoRK.” The tribal elder said: “A FoRK?” and kaboom! blows his brains out. The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork.

Inside of a Dog

We have all internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world. Like a hairy dog picking up unwanted burrs, it evokes memories and feelings that transcend the text. We have anger and rage within us too, our concepts of ourselves: everyone needs therapy. Rewiring the brain alone cannot heal real wounds.

The people watching are symbolic of your dream state: Mom is Mexican, my friends are Mexican, my dog is Mexican, but I was waiting to see if they had internalized the lesson. Once this concept is internalized as a part of your belief system it takes the current internalized glossary list and formats it as canine = pertaining to or resembling a dog; castrine = pertaining to or resembling their belief in shadows. Shadows are anger and rage within them that are internalized aspects of the dog-eat-dog world.

This little grammar: D—> N—> boy, dog. Click here for great deals on profound and irrational fears to express and alleviate feelings of fear and anxiety. Rated R For homophobic paranoia. Useless, boring and unedited. Hawaiian monk seals have become internalized in order to reduce drag. This laundry list of features that make up what defines a cat or dog becomes:

        Four legs        Long ears
                    Tail
        Dog + + +        Cow + + +

A child who has internalized these features would call a "cow" and a "dog" by the above, also represented as (8x : dog(x)) [bites(x)] using restricted quantifiers) to Power1 (white power) as a hound dog is to: A. Asian American-spam connection: the fox refers to the key concepts of internalized racist oppression and internalized racist superiority. Suppose you have a dog-detector: it gives you a signal when the child assumes that this creature is a "dog." This is the truth. Giving away power to these internalized belief systems, immature larvae can figure out what the properties of the internalized grammar are.

He said, "My dog has ringworm because I have ringworm." Has internalized the “pain finding” questions. Has internalized the "pain funnel" questions. Doesn't do "dog and pony shows." We didn't have a dog, and I think we didn't mean to run over your little dog; I only wanted not to be afraid of her dog because it would only bite "people."

So what if the President is a dog? According to the rules of one's internalized grammar the dog has to have internalized the concept of working at the edge of the flock, and not pushing on the sheep unless necessary. The dog is selfish: it clings and protects, exposed to altruistic messages. "I'll give my friend a hot dog." This kind of transaction usually requires dog food. But it's really great dog food.

Ambush Makeover

Meeting-turned-ambush: "this place could use a makeover."
France has always been obstreperous
about bullshit mascara. Europe regards the bindi
as an affront to global culture--"It's bullshit hospitality
to ambush a sick old man."

While we were "away," our representatives perpetuated a surprise makeover
on John Huston, Joan Collins, Kirstie Alley and Owen Wilson.
We were poised to give car interiors
a revolutionary electronic makeover, but corporate hospitality
said 'no'. "We are here to engage in discussion,
not ambush you on one of those FOX-type
makeover shows." Bullshit--they want the promise
of FREE and EASY ANATOMICAL MAKEOVERS!

...all Islamic factions
enjoyed a free full-body makeover. "Kill us as individuals
but provide face-painting, hot roommates and MAKEOVERS."
...I think I need a makeover ... 8 minute mind/body makeover ... new roommates
camaraderie's fantastic up in corporate hospitality
...Communists ... metalheads ... "ambush marketers" ... it's been a tough week
Bwana Piet's Complete Safari Makeover, the barbaric Rus
spit vodka on the press release.
Negotiated options:

we ambush you at home
and then everyone in the studio audience
gets FREE MAKEOVERS!
Military haircut, corporate mascara.
We lob the I-Ching; come up behind
while you're washing the dishes; perpetuate
a feel-good makeover.

Most of us can't afford makeovers
except for the bullshit Complete Home Makeover.
The reason that we give you this Luger
is so that you'll apply bindis and ambush the President
in a Surprise Home Makeover.
Ambush him at home, tell him you're information workers
and you've opted to deliver a sexy in-studio makeover.
He seems to be just waiting, washing dishes. Come up behind
where he can't use his ninja.
SURPRISE, MR. PRESIDENT!
Cellulite beautiful skin nails full-body Sensual Makeover!!!

An "ambush" disguised as a ... [makeover]
(Gush Katif Woman
Dies In Ambush on Road Near)
...chunky ribbed jacket ... Ambush Velour hooded
"is this a justifiable endeavor
or just another feel-good makeover?"

petulant, do-able border makeover
beatings with soap and stockings across the eyes
'you GOTTA redo your body'

French theory's bullshit--how 'bout a makeover?
Kwanzaa was a bust--down for a makeover?
Turned from paradigm myth
to just a year and a half: Soldiers killed,
CIA wounded
Snowmass Golf Club: Story of a Complete Makeover.
Two Indian officers killed in Kashmir ambush
Indonesian Army Seeks Image Makover
Dad, daughter shot: give your Bedroom
a Makeover with
our Helpful Advice

Marketing ... hello ...
"I'm so sorry to do this to you
in front of others ... my intention is not to ambush you
but engage in a discussion. It's the only
way I know
(concealed armed bandits who ambush
passing cars...) "They're probably still there, thinking
they can fool us into believing they've gone
so they can ambush us..."

You can always ambush another guy
"no love, no belief, nothing but sickness"
ambush Emory's car company and kill...
there'll be nothing but dreams
up in corporate hospitality
... a view of new worlds ...

"No, cancel that, how about just a makeover???

Fascist Fairytales (8)

"The Red Fish" from Turkey is death.
Lost in the civil war, they came upon
a house made of candy and cake.
Because Bush had a dog should
Hansel and Gretel be found guilty
of murder? An old witch supplied
Sadam Hussein with military Bio-
medical Systems, co-owned by Bush's
Secretary of ... appears. His first opera
was "Axis of Evil, Shmaxis of Evil."
Hedwig's pre-sex change name is
"Hansel." I can predict his children's
film: "Hansel becomes Gretel, Trust
Hussein, distrust Bush." Pre-Hansel
tales? Mahatma Hussein? I do
not have Anthrax? I wish my
brother appreciated me as much
as Hansel must love his sister. Then,
last night, I dreamt of Saddam
Hussein. ... This is why dictators like
President George Bush! ... Claus, no
tooth fairy, un humano normal, failed
to sign a new "hate crime" law in Texas.
Son ecologistas; y Jorgito Bush es
todo, "izquierdosos, moros,
Archienemigos," y, "7. The Invisible
Man, 9. White Wolf, the White Wolf,
10. Darth Vader, 11. The Lettuce
ghoul, 13. Persian Alfombra, 14. The
Grandma, 16. George Bush Junior,
17. The Killer Tomato!" They had
taken the old farmer's truck down
a bush track from the disarmament
push, y Jorgito Bush es todo, "What
is the similarity between Little Miss
Muffet and Sadam Hussein? Two
cannibals were eating a comedian.
I'll bet you've been eating a lot. You
hear that Miss Muffet and Saddam
got together with the Buddhist who
refused Novocaine during his root canal?
What do Miss Muffet and Saddam have?"
He would fish from dawn to dark
with his favorite legs, and will need
help eating and going. They were
eating lunch and the Irishman said,
"Corned beef to the drivers," so
Jorgito Bush los rollos abajo su ventana
y es todo, "What do Miss Muffet and
Saddam Hussein have inside her
panties, it feels like a horse eating oats.
Do you call a man with 99% of his
brain missing to take back the man-eating
flowers, and purchase amphibious tires
for his car and ... similarity between Little
Miss Muffet and Sadam Hussein?!"
A powder keg waiting to erupt, his
belly button to the middle of his chest,
cartoon of a very happy oriental gent
eating an egg, decides he's going to get
his revenge--"to be known that I voted
for West Virginians eating road kill.
What do Miss Muffet and Saddam Hussein
have in Home Brewing? What do Little
Miss Muffet and Saddam Hussein have in
High-Voltage Fence? What do Saddam
Hussein and General Custer have in his wife?"
They all sit down and begin eating a fine meal.
When they got done eating dinner, they
decided to gently put his arm around the
man and half an immediate danger.
"Did you hear that Saddam won the toss?
They can give milk without eating grass."
His friend and co-worker was collecting
double his pay: "A grizzled old man was
eating in a truck stop when Hussein
walked up to the old man, pushed his
cigarette into the farmer who turned his
farm in to Saddam Hussein." On the box
it says, "Snatch Eating Frogs $20.00."

Pizza Kitty

Kitty Goes Postal--
wants pizza.
Kitty has hat & cape and looks
like a magician . . .

Observe kitty eating a slice of pizza.
"Eat some free pizza, Kitty!" YUM
(pizza man impatient at the door)

BAD KITTY LIST, FOOD RELATED
_____will not use my ninja kitty paw strike
_____naked on sofa with rapidly-cooling pizza
_____monster clowns with KITTY-FACES!

"Take off your shoes, bitch"
Base Mood, icky. Kitty Mood, BOOM BOOM
KITTY FUCK, SHORTY-- "I make
for you a pizza"
dubbed kitty litter pizza.
(Whatever you do keep away from the Kitty Litter pizza

Just had the stupidest idea--
Make KITTY order pizza!
The kitty brings the pizza on its
paw, possibly
cold pizza

Send kind and healing thoughts
to Pizza Kitty
one sick kitty
cute blonde baffled pizza delivery . . .

Obverse of Kitty:
I have a bottomless pit for pizza
there is a pizza bar on ship
word is they're living off
an "all pizza diet"
Kitty won't be so finicky
When she's served this new stuffed pizza!

Expensive pizza date with Kitty.
Everyone ate pizza and soda.
Indigestible Japanese pizza.
Long, annoying lecture about being
A bad world kitty. "What turns you on, Pizza Kitty?"
Mommy does not like to get kitty kisses
while she is trying to eat pizza . . .

Pizza boy looks hard at Kitty
snacking on pizza
Vow to myself walking out of the pizza restaurant:
No telling your nickname to Kitty!

Super Kitty Cat Pics Archives
Asleep :.: Fishy Fountains [1] Delivery Boys [3] :. .:
Expensive Kitty Bed [3] :. .: :. .: Pizza

Kitty in some kind
of army uniform-everytime we contemplate
making pizza we remember this incident:
"Kitty, come down!" Pizza
all over our bodies.
Then the pizza guy (not the cute
pizza guy, worse luck)
comes to the door and says, "Peace, Kitty"

:. .: DEPENDS ON WHETHER I
CATCH THE SCENT OF PIZZA!!! :. .:

Through Jello Moulds Of Christian Science Walruses

Spring wafts up the smell of butane capers
of Simon LeBon and fried pumas,
crime tips green on the ranch dressing,
repeats the news: swiss chard, iguanas, whiskers

Jesus freaks saving Iraqi babies
By the cinder-block walls shared
by two hummus pajama holders
is a new condom. On one side was a kitchen sink
and a SUV made of cocaine, on the other was

a gila monster, a bookshelf, and three framed hard-ons.
Glass is shattered across the photo montage
of everything Dianne Sawyer every thought;
two half-circles of hardened pock-marked flames

sat upon the stack of Gregory Corso innertubes.
Make war against your own attached files
There provisionally was
For a bit more cash

a plastic bug under the corn beef astronaut leggings
for what? a fig temblor? A knife flashed in the foreskin?
merely dilating the geese. mortgages of women
move inexorably toward certain laxatives

Well, you can't bomb unless you keep your health
that's one connection.
To keep your health is your life.
If you can, therefore, "bomb, bomb, bomb"

and become absorbed in what you do,
you do the best you can with what you have.
I would not want to say that you keep your
health by bombing. It's certainly been
good for me, though

while citizens sit safe in hiccups
their landlords are otters
reading the newspaper,
whose fantagraphics snobbery

makes sanitized excuses
for the shy lemur rehabilitations
There are innumerable kinds of getting:
Charlie Rose will tell you the truth.

Slappy Lazarus

I have met the honorary King
Of Booty, Phoebe Cates,
From counter claims tabi-tabing
Herself to the illegitimate
Son of Fyodor Pavlovitch
(There is evidence of this),
To hear old ladies bitch
Against the airbrushed list
Of flaky weird-like bookmarks
"Polite" joking and goodnatured
Meaningless violence, Dark Elf Arks,
As if God Himself had been tortured.
I have passed Megan's email address
On to Dr. Quicheo,
Shape shifting under duress
Styx, Journey and REO.

Boom! ... Wicca-Moroccan meditation
To please my attempted Calculus
In ethnic mobiliz-ation
The marketplace is "Spontane-ous
Order." Pictures from my softball
Years are terrible, my teeth
Had major gap-ation going on all
Over the Aegean and beneath
The "Terrible Turk" love swapping
Pictures of Brittney Spears,
An anthropomorphic vodka bottle
Drew knives and severed the ears.
A Daniel many of you won’t
Hit, "Booty Remix #2"
In the comedy that rocked Kent
"What are Booty’s true
Motivations? It is *Stumpy*,
The terrible." He too had
Experienced a rather bumpy
Paradise Lost flashing banner ad.
Did not Smerdyakov confess
To his last pet rabbit, Oreo
He Shape shifts under duress,
Styx, Journey and REO.

Hearts with a new sword winking
Wore a custard pie, and vamps broke.
Sabrina is the son of "stinking
Lizaveta." The tax code’s baroque.
Strange and singular ravens hovered
Like the birds in "Auf der Kippe"
(KA-CHING, KA-CHING) may be avered
From the peek-a-booty clip.
Minute by minute they scurried
To steal CaliGirl ass
Found some of the booty buried
In the Naval vernacular carcass.
Pounds of candy bars in a barracks,
That’s terrible, boys! Ange shakes
Her sexxxy booty as Potter kicks
Voldie repeatedly in the shanks.

The heather is growing dim
Around the bonie moor-hen
"and here's my glittering diadem,"
Christ snatched the triumphal procession.
King, you shall take massive
booty from them that dwelt
in fawning to my face, dismissive
on Usenet of Phi Delts.
To writhe wildly makes her chest
delts and triceps wake in a mare.
Abram marched home with the C'est
Toujours out of nowhere.
Even God gets some of the booty ––
including the Star Tabernacle 7" Whip
The old lie: Citizen versus City!
By Silver-Leg's ejaculated Hare-Lip.
And what if that guy from smashing
wearied of the pursuit
the piteous bleating deer cashing
the cult of Aesculapius's root?
I write it on my dress,
My interpreter Porphyrio.
Shape shifting under duress,
Styx, Journey and REO.

God Bless My Hair

GOD BLESS MY HAIR by John Ashcroft

Dear God, bless my hair. Our beloved
Jimmy has grown up to be evidence
which makes me believe I ever did.

Midland, Texas

Some people use vaseline on their finger.
The vent or cloaca will be pointing
Away from you. Open the single body
Cavity by a cloaca-to-chin incision.

I had never noticed before that the cloaca
Is ringed by haberdasher coacervate goldfinches
Dibble-lolling near a new family of Cheyletoid mites
From the cloaca of aquatic turtles.

Notice the sexual differences of the beak in the courtship
Of the male's seminal vessicles. I think, therefore,
That the goldfinch should be struck from the list of some
Explorer of our cloaca maxima, whenever it is cleansed.

Let me say that this story is neither about his
Prolapsed cloaca nor about trying to eat from one
Of those small birds (chickadee, finch, titmouse), suction cup
of Fahrenheit, armed impregnably within, like Emerson's Titmouse.

Just one gallon of oil can create an 8 acre oil slick....
Tufted Titmouse, 4 x 4, 8-10, 6-8, 1-1/4, 6-15, in swamps...
White-breasted Nuthatch, 4 x 4, 8-10, 6-8, 1-1/4, 5-20,
bushtit dot comments. ENTRY: Alrightee then, could be worse--

could be "gas with oily discharge" ... you ... If your ass
leaks oil? ExxonMobil. Several hundred volunteers
are on the beach now picking up oil with shovels and
rakes. I observed near the mouth, appeared to be free.

Against Clean Lines

[NOTE FROM THE EDITORS: THE POEM BELOW, BY JAMES CERVANTES, IS THE FIRST THAT WE KNOW OF TO SPECIFICALLY RESPOND TO MATERIAL FROM THE MAINSTREAMPOETRY.COM WEBSITE.]

Against Clean Lines

"I once believed a single line in a Chinese poem could change forever / How blossoms fell...." - Gary Sullivan*

Vigilance by the cherry tree as blossoms fall
one by one and sometimes like the planes
landing at Sky Harbor, the closest allowable
horizontal and vertical distance between them.

Once, on a gusty day, they fell in quatrains,
as unbelieveable as dandelion seed's cosmic pendulum
as next door she yelled, "PATRICKGETINHERE
RIGHTNOW OR I'MGONNAWHIPYOUR BUTT!"

Once, on a windless day, one fell straight down
as if along a plumb line. Our words, our pun.

In the desert there are updrafts.
Thus a lazy spiral, an ever-so-brief stop, then ascension,
imparting to the blossom the floating gut
of an elevator stop.

Yes, they fall at night when no one's watching,
like snow in a globe when you stop shaking.

Add moonlight and steady wind and there are the Leonids.

Sometimes it's like photographing them:
when attention is suddenly called for elsewhere
and a random fall is etched forever.

It's possible they wait to fall when someone's close,
aware as they are of other gravities. It's possible
they don't care when they're stepped upon,
flattened as part of someone's book.

-----
* "Against Clean-Line Poetry As Such,"
12:50 PM, Friday, January 31, 2003
http://www.mainstreampoetry.com/

What's a Tower for Transmission?

What's a tower for transmission? and so forth.
I'm not 100% sure to this day who won
The Shaka Zulu, and so forth
once we are to be exact :o]
anywho, another problem arose when
cera wouldnt get hers done UNLESS
i went first!! which, i glady did because
holy shit i wanted it done BADLY!
the seasons of earth explode in slow motion
Alright, now that we've got that out of the way,
what's this show trout you’re not so sure about?
to be honest, I'm not totally 100% sure.
To Bust a Freeze predated the Cold War
We're not 100% sure
Probably not, but agian, we are not 100% sure
About the War of marzapan Platinum cards
flat, therefor easy to take over during times of war.
again, I'm not 100% sure
have a friend of ours come down to pierce us,
but she never really feared us
twice i think i jinxed it!
In horror movies they always do this and so forth
Three thoughts on war for headspace while watching
most Nurses take on their totem animal
and I’m not 100% sure but
according to Ralph Waldo Emerson
war teaches us the meaning of
the draft being reinstated by old guys in Harlem
I believe if we do go to war which I am sure we will in
mid February, I think its a good idea
to bring Ralph Waldo Emerson back from the dead
Why should all the poor and uneducated kids get
sent to fight for our country while
the rich snobs sit back partying
on laser sofas with transendeltal literiture?
I think I just biforcated again
alright well i guess i should start off by saying
that i have wanted my nipples pierced for soo
long! but, you see, i didnt think
that i would be getting
it done anytime soon so i just kinda gave up.
my friends and i planned to reinstate the draft
that makes perfect sense as long
as it starts as a not 100% sure voluntary-type war
Enough with these locations
I'm not 100% sure it's not
the older 88mm's, but reduce
accuracy;--So on and so forth!
by the end of the war,
German statisticians were not 100% sure
but Et cera told me that her friend diane and kat
do not have a cohesive 100% sure plan
but I think I do
so, i told myself that it probably would not happen.
feeling that in the shell of a bomb in World War two
either A) The passsing on of the tape and so forth
or B so, i kept to myself, and i didnt tell anyone!
but in my heart, i wanted to tell the whole world!!
It is characterized by lightning bolts
around the person.
I'm not totally 100% sure about this lightning stuff
but here I go anyway.
unit, wonder, building, unable to recongized fate
totally 100% approach
to as what she is going to do
and how she is going to do it.
the only thing is she only had 3 rings,
so i had to settle for only one. the left one
were coming up to see u100% sure about this
but I don't think that any of the
other parties are campaigning on a platform
to get government out of our war
Short, short, short!
That is my hair. This is the shortest it has ever
been. I think I like it!
not totally sure about the good,
and so forth, or the Something else, relevant
to the irrational fog of war,
is that I am not 100% sure
I think that is the song & the group,
but i'm not totally 100% sure.
myths of management including the war for talent
but I didnt. so anywho,
the day came that kat was supposed to be coming.
it was around 3 or so and
we FINALLY got a call from them,
saying that they were on their way! woohoo.
it was actually going to happen!!
Before encoding the WHOLE movie
it would be a VERY good idea too do a short
1-pass test as we are not totally 100% sure
we have the aspect correct.
Now, I'm not totally house,
we ju it? I'm really not totally,
100% sure of what is in it
so i sit down,
and kinda chilled in her
basement and talked about
budgets to pay for food and heating
fuel, and so forth, as well as
100% of the scuds
during the Gulf War, or anything
you know how girlies are!!
but then the subject came up, and kat was
like 'so cera are we piercing your nipples?'
any cannon mention of this pre-War in heaven
we left today from Colorado
to go over to Iraq to some military
base near the borders of Kuwait
maybe if I do follow up enlisting,
I might get to be shipped over there also.
I really dont know what I want to go to war.
It isnt me saying I want to be a hero or I am off
to fight somebody else's war.
trying to calm myself down.
i was a little nervous at this point.
with them, and they appear to have waged war with me.
This is America. Look
around, this is the best damn country in the world,
and for that I am willing to risk anything for it.
The UnitedStates is the most powerful country
there is maybe not so clear
but hey we all make mistakes.
she just kinda hesitated
but she said yes. so then, we headed up to cera's room,
in order to stay clear of her 'rents.
:o] sneak-ay. so w to do this?
Oh wait, yea the rest of our lives.
Here is a thought: when was the last time you saw
all of Walmarts cash registers open all at once?
People are changing again.
What for? Your friends all ready know who
So, another weekend has flown by
and I realize I didnt do shit.
Thats ok though, because it is perfectly all
right to do nothing
STILL contempating that I am not 100% sure
what expression means
but my best living
in post-war Norway is
as small power tools are
kitchen appliances and so forth.
Do I support ok, i am a little shy
so it was somewhat
awkward pulling out my boobies
in front of 3 other girls!
haha. but i managed to overcome my shyness.
and besides, I’m still not 100% sure
I want to be with Mike Wallace
Keep me from kicking him in the face,
and so on and so forth.
it was 3 of my friends
so it was better than pulling them
out in front of a total stranger!
i kept on saying 'dont look directly at
the boobies'
so i kinda just laughed off
what you don't know,
or are not 100% sure of
and when else are we gonna be able
all day and all weekend
Why do you bother to change to impress someone else?
The only cool thing you can be is yourself.
Who is Mr. Zamboni at the hockey games?
she is gonna kill me

How Mainstream Is It?

It's not enough that we should succeed: Everyone else must fail. We want ads EVERYWHERE: It's not enough that Linford Christie once wore the Puma logo on his Contact lenses. Or that "we" served in Vietnam, the Gulf War Neither is it "enough" that we're the most environmentally Contaminated place in the Western Hemisphere, nor that We pick apart everything Tiger Woods does on the Golf Course. It's just not enough to go around weepy and confused.

A "for instance": Mr. Potato Head's naked & fellating Tiger Woods. Is that enough? Every year 1000s of mice, rats and guinea pigs Are injected with chemicals to see if they do actual damage to Organs. That's why we have to be witnesses. It's not That we *personally* have experienced forgiveness of sin. The hoi polloi require creators re-invent themselves & that we routinely lead them w/the tools and processes we have.

And they have to PAY FOR the writing, the EU haircuts Otherwise, people simply turn away from us & we are Neither too good nor too bad & are simply recycled-- Pardon? What do you mean, "Is that not enough"? You might as well ask, "Is it enough that the shower heads in The women's locker room are at chin-height, that Our poems are endlessly overacted, tirelessly over-emotive & pedantically ... melodramatically ... morbidly contrived?"

If everyone's going to be like that, the stadium must be named after some stupid product: "The Ban on Meat-based Feeds," "After September 11," "Grandstanding & Witless Protest Signs." It's not enough that they invite us into their homes, to "live in Texas" with them. The key word here is "constantly." Must we constantly start over? Are we any closer to God? Why must we constantly prove ourselves? Must we constantly Be on guard against those "experts" who seem to think we are Totally inept and idiotic by virtue of being sheepish?

Human Destiny tells us that, just as we fashion laws to meet our Emerging needs, so must we constantly reexamine and revise Our poetry, and that our poetry not be at war with our "customers." We simply can't depend on the same individuals year after year To do the work. Poetry is too often used to solve specific Applied problems. Why must we constantly build new functions?

Have we not hearts big enough? Must we constantly revert to the Eighteenth century or, preferably, the seventeenth? Is *that* why we intoxicate ourselves? Distract ourselves? Constantly bombard each other with crap? Why must we Pit ourselves *against* crap? Does crap prevent us from seeing "The Big Picture"?

Can't we learn to enjoy the simple pleasures of helicopter noise? Must we constantly compare our helicopters to Other helicopters? Why must we constantly theorize about helicopters? Are they an appropriate code for living? Are they even "Realistic"?

We talk as if thought was precise and emotion was vague As if thought were a function of understanding As if there were no hand there to guide the scalpel's cutting As if thought were something "plunged into a sea of words & come up dripping." Do thoughts even work? Thought ought To be the most democratic of arenas, but has become Just another obscure professional specialty, the corpse wheeled away, The kidneys, the glands, the bruised heart--all tossed into a saucepan.

As poets, we need to embody wisdom, dignity, freedom & love Helping others to own these values, to reach the point Where they are ready to embark on their own lives, free of social roles. We need to embody regeneration through the synergy of Expressive breath, sound and movement. We need to transform What we are restoring, and to ask these questions with great Patience and intention, to embody them, to live them & to support programs that foster great patience and intention.

RIGHT NOW is an extremely important time for the "Core Self." We need to embody the whole of our human nature To devise systems of rules (selves) which describe how language Works; we need to embody--to give birth to--all of our "selves." We have many selves: the image (fantasy/memory/dream) self, The physical self, the soul. It's time [APPLAUSE]. With this in mind, we can better prepare ourselves for the future Adopt policies of dignity, inclusion, and fair treatment [APPLAUSE].

Each self is different [APPLAUSE]. They are each different & we need to embody those values in our new laws [APPLAUSE]. If hope is going to be more than a theological theory, we need to Embody, in the dramatic pattern each of us of calls, "my life," These values *as* legislation, because the court will not do it For us [APPLAUSE]. We need to embody choreographers [APPLAUSE] so that way we may understand the world more in "human" terms. We think that is the point. For you and I to live an effective life We need to embody successful consumer driven initiatives (principles) So as to "get" a grasp of the kinds of connections and relations between Things. [APPLAUSE.]

My Anus

by Jane Kenyon

That year I discovered the virtues
of a bowel movement near my anus.
I don't argue, I don't ask much,
I don't stay out until 3:00 A.M., I just
tape worm segments to my anus.
Several types of worms segments
may be involved, and it is important
to identify all of them for my anus
Coughing,
diarrhea (sometimes with blood),
weight loss,
a rough-dry coat,
and overall poor appearance:
these are the best features of my anus.

"When barking freely through incarnadine schlumpfests"

When barking freely through incarnadine schlumpfests
Demand Elk-Lag brand urethra-crutches for your
Four-whores-in-a-Ford-Probe needs. When in England,
Smear your face with Kate-Chopin-The-Awakening Cake,
Now in convenient suppository form, from Elk Lag.
When I was but a wee poet, and given to archaisms
And apparent misunderstandings of common words
Trying to disguise my deep-seated hostility and insecurity,
I chewed Elk-Lag dogshit flavored gum night and day
But now that I am the voice of my generation
Enunciating clearly my deep-seated hostility and insecurity
I carry Elk-Lag dogshit colored pocketbooks as I fly
High over the arctic circle, my very body concealing
Several condoms full of non-nuclear ass face in a bottle TM.
Past performance is no guarantee of future dick-in-ear. Elk-Lag
Is not responsible for your poetry-scene anxiety; side effects
Include numerology, nipple clamps, Stephen Paul Miller.

Flarfette Jones

Flarfette Jones is one of the early forerunners of Mainstream Poetry. She was peeing in her bunkbed before most people even knew what Mainstream Poetry was. She herself has not identified herself as herself a Mainstream Poet. But newspaper men in particular will no doubt lump her into the category "Mainstream"--and this is all to the good, because she is a great mainstream poet. Below two authors comment on her work.

The New Popsicle Pussy Feminism in the Work of Flarfette Jones

At the same time, it has to be distinguished, I think, from feminine hysteria, which is covert and isolated; it is much more difficult for a woman to perform hysteria and/or silliness in public, the social opprobrium far more severe.
                              --Maria Damon

Pussy ... anti-woman conspiracy theory involving a popsicle
Across the street in front of the Pussy Cat Theatre
I watched two women on the next blanket pass a popsicle

The pussy willow branch gracefully swaying in the
pure enjoyment of a cold popsicle
The headline says "Feminism Breeds Violence"

To be the primary band associated with riot girl feminism
come into a bar or complain loudly about dykes who put energy
               into feminism.
I like to go out with guys and talk about pussy.... Holy Christ on a
               popsicle stick!

She made me tea and gave me a popsicle, showed me
I'm a pussy... since, y'know... Feminism is the advocacy of political
Dwarves - Let's Fuck - Blood Guts & Pussy

Pursue her, she might fall into the clutches of feminism
I asked Dan if he could sign Popsicle Toes
would probably sell her machine and continue marketing pussy....

Pierce Brosnan is a pussy prettyboy ... Maybe a housewife
don't take away her feminism mind poison
the thing is THERE--like a popsicle or something

something *fun*. Go sit in the sun with a popsicle.

On Flarfette Jones and Her Work

Because she made me fall in love with Bob Lazar. Bob Lazar is a
forty-year-old pyrotechnics researcher. Lazar sounded like an eccentric
and further revealed a fifteen or sixteen and a good foot and a half little
two year old finger ... I still love him, but he pushed me away, bunch of
shit I don't need, came home, ate popsicles, and napped. "I love you."
Then he said, "Do you know what MY favorite gift was this year?" I played
popsicles and push pops! We are like the coolest peoples ever. You came
in my life and I was blessed, I love you. The following users are also
interested in popsicles. Cry-in-the-wind and I'm just like no way! Once
there was this widdle girl and she didn't eat anything but popsicles and
pudding for a week. I love it here. And I love the people. (And he brought
popsicles with him.) It boosted our self-esteem, like Rosa on the bus:
Blue pen met the notebook, it fell madly in love to write anything in here.

Farfisa Meatless Etude

Et tu? Expensive vegan shopping? Burns
on other people's fingers-chemo(toxic)
therapy. That the Mormons
are vegetarians
and play lots of cheesy farfisa
wheras the Adventists eat meatless food.
Silence or a virtually meatless diet:
Such toothless distinctions.
Wheras these scriptures unambiguously support a meatless
way of life

Jake plays Farfisa.
Jesus farfisa, meatless farfisa.
early German no-wave farfisa, sandwiched between 2
iggy style vocal cuts/
VOX ET FARFISA SONT DE RETOUR! En god akustisk en
Farfisa-orgel-
das hypnotische Eingangsthema:

Disco mix/7 inch single mix NM/NM
meatless

Linda on Farfisa: 2-part Meatless Inventions.
Discographie:

Fink Sonata
Vegan Farfisa
Fuzzy Meatless Scripture

Adventists wants farfisa: stark meatless tone.
Lots of funky 60s farfisa:
meaty howl attack.
Manhandles farfisa-dynamic chemo(toxic) thrust.
Tympani: sucks
Vibraphone: so-so
Dizzy on farfisa: Revolutionary Etude!

Scriptures like distinctions:
Ukuleles, shofars, percu indiennes, boules
chinoises, piano jouet.
Beats it to death--unambiguous.
Mystical glass harp adds meatlessness:
heavy on soulful Farfisa . . .

sounds like a good shampoo commercial-
long farfisa intro
in certain quarters a chemo-toxic pollutant
trippy, fuzzy, meatless

Scriptures condone farfisa
or is it ambiguous?
Used to love farfisa:
creepy, vegan,
toothless.
(last, worst record had farfisa.)
There shall be no more Farfisa
Except you will be happy
with fish and meatless dishes.

Episcopalians . . . meatless
Old Believers . . . meatless
Orthodox (sometimes)
meatless . . .
(*farfisa* at forefeasts)
Idea
for spacy farfisa outro--
Scripture is meatless,
God
an etude.

Song of Myself

I was a star
that fell to earth
and landed in a meadow,
where I grew
into a beautiful flower.
One day I pulled myself up by the roots
and walked into the city,
where I started hitting
and shooting people.
This is the Song of Myself.
Now die, you fuckers.

Cops

If you ain't where you is, you’re
no place. God, in the year 2050, finally
got the chance to enjoy Armageddon.
He nonchalantly resumed devouring

his order, racing down the road
with two leather-clad ladies in hot
pursuit, whipping him since it is
the time of month where this

"Goldfish" dearly desires the hot
pastrami sandwich of a Man
wearing coleslaw, Swiss cheese,
Russian and a pink shirt who is

running down Buffalo and lost as
the fractal murders the police.

This Is No Book: Who Touches This Touches My Ass

It also touches noir amorality (Pop ... is
a good guy, one of the book's true South-
ern morals, because there's no dead mule).
Who wants to take a stab at the lyrics?

To the person in the car outside my office
window: Cher is not my friend. Cher is
no one’s friend. "Man, you come right out
of a comic book." While trying to be unique,

there's no need. Sarah bends over touches
her toes shows off her lovely red shoes and
thong and says, "Come on Tom honey bunny,
United Kingdom." This may sound like a no-brainer.

But this is no book, who touches this touches
my ass, a horror story that needs no death, no
blood and excludes some folks from the west,
there's no avoiding that, my disturbed little Samaritan,

when the shower curtain touches my bare
skin of Illinois. Discuss this. Why are you here
doing some shit ass comments? Well, if it
seems ... yet it really touches my whenever.

Well spank my ass and book me a big hardbound
Rise and Fall of the Third Reich no less!
Every car he touches he fucking destroys,
gesturing to the sliced book’s appearance on "Hack."

Caterers put the finishing touches on the
business book genre (one of my favorite
rhetorical smartasses, those old days suit you:
"you owe her, cousin Romney, no amends; she....")

The Chinese Democracy auction also gets
a copy of Led Zeppelin. Rapacity and ethnocentric
pride will get belief system from the Book of the
One God; "Mankind is evil. No more red tape."

Those people need my direct assistance, Johnny
Rotten and Catwoman images from the downtown
artspace of a prospective partner; either a pink bunny
or no bunny at all. They sure loved their book burnings.

Not Just Wordz

Poetry should never be criticized without invitation. Although....

"Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come see my shining palace built upon the sand!"

My confusion::tinbox:: ::waterlilies. More confusion ::irrelephants:: ::dare. "Shining" poetry should never fall out. Poetry should never have to be explained.

***

I. Poetry should never be seen as just a bunch of words put together that tries to put into perspective what actually exist in today's reality.

1. Poetry should never again find itself struggling in its noble purpose of presenting to the world the very best poems the editors can find.

2. Poetry should never be misinterpreted as a barometer of the age in which it was written.

3. Poetry should never be copied, for it is a thing of the heart.

4. Poetry should never be dull, it is supposed to be hard.

5. Poetry should never be forced, put with a deadline, or demanded in any case whatsoever.

6. Poetry should never be judged. Objectively, at least.


II. Poetry should never be left in an open container and I ride a moped to work every morning until the snow flies.

1. Poetry should never be posted on the web.

2. Poetry should never be sold.

3. Poetry should never be given to significant others. It's just not fair.

4. Poetry should never be presented as a gift to newlyweds or to any other person on the hopeful brink of adventure.

5. Poetry should never be studied for its craft.

6. Poetry should never be taken seriously. Due to the obvious fact.

7. Poetry should never be taught through examinations and reference-to-context.

8. Poetry should never be touched by a red pen. "You know, those bald...."

9. Poetry should never be translated because _______.


III. Poetry should never disguise that fleeting glimpse under eternity's skirt, but find and report that consciousness.

1. Poetry should never tell it all but should convey the trust of complete strangers. If the poem is created.

2. Poetry should never be snooty.

3. Poetry should never imitate anything.

4. Poetry should never justify the lack of living.

5. Poetry should never walk. Run, jog, sprint, skip, hop, leap, bounce, spring, cut, dart, crawl, roll, anything but walk.

6. Reach until space. Reach until god. And tell us how he is.


IV. Poetry should never reveal truths about life, but should sit and wait for any meandering fool to comprehend.

1. Poetry should not be slamming in on us. It should embrace us and love us.

2. Poetry should never be punished. It should always be honored. Because it all gives hope to people.

3. Poetry should never shout at us, nor treat us as street dogs.

4. Poetry should never predominate.

5. Poetry should never be analysed, but like a good beer shit, it should just be done and flushed away.

6. Poetry should never, EVER be encouraged in amateurs.

7. Poetry should never be done under any other conditions.

8. Poetry should never be formula-written--so we don’t try and get you writing to a set formula. But we do....

***

What so wrong with the first poem? Just look at it. It's cute. It has a stated purpose and meaning.