Poem: Inscrutable Wisdom

Dream of having nothing at all, and think

what you’d be, fossilized snot bubble, skipping light

curmudgeon complaining, casting darts on the lawn in formation

spelling “THAT’S IT” or “THIS IS IT” just to fuck with people

in the morning

on their day off, they can’t read it

at first as they haven’t the angle, it takes time

to understand the meaning

of a disappointing slime leaking, it’s nothing

at all dummy, this is nothing just like everything.

 

But people loved it, they went crazy

chanting intricately in column formations

and shit, assuming it’s a warning, filling a hole

with wishes written down and set

aflame, until a pit of ashes in its place

raked by an elderly Chinese man

wondering what the words had meant

becomes the sole symbol, showing that shadow

obscures nothing of note, and mystery is wanting

not finding a solution, the search itself is.

Poem: Inscrutable Wisdom

Poem: History

Scribbled secret notebook pages, hastily hunt and pecked, hen by Demon

Shakespeare Rattle brand cough syrup, a writer in reposing horror, eyes wide

open, Hemingway’s it all the way home man, like lynching a bar fly

for no good reason, film forms on my lips, being expelled for smoking

in the teacher’s lounge, manifesting my O’s and Q’s, as well as the twenty

four more, to craft a meaning for living and dying, by the billions

if the wind breaks right, humanity will happen, but now it’s too late

to save us, from ourselves we must escape, defending old minds

from the horror of now, of what we’ve done, is the only way to make sure

that they suffer too, which is only fair, capitulating the vibrations.

Poem: History

Poem: The Killing of a Horse (Sort Of)

The texture flits in and out

like a spark hog, I guess, I mean a spark that’s all

like “I’m totally a spark n’ shit,” sparking shit blue moon

tongue depressors, but you knew this would happen, or preternaturally

supposed the future as it occurs, but sometimes it’s like yesterday

by the Beatles isn’t my favorite, ‘cause it’s kind

of doughty, it’s probably cause you hit her, whichever one that was

I forget shit all the time, and my girlfriend is increasingly reluctant

to believe thee readily evident, repeatedly reticent

panoramic period ending the sentence, and then it starts

“Again, crackers!” crackers this time, cheerio that is

as in “that is,” a good pip, when you pop.

 

explicative pretense denied, bitches, this is my coaster

rain-soaked chinchilla prostitute in the future, a pig in every poke

on the literal use of terms, pejorative leaning Mamet monologue

you son of a bitch, the truth handles your ass or some shit

I’m so Sorkin, showing itself a gag on fire

speech of truth, which has never been written

before now, madness fudge-battered cocaine spectacle

sounds tasty in the sun, but it would totally melt so

it would probably kill you, unless you were a hardcore

user specific, or lucky like me I guess.

Poem: The Killing of a Horse (Sort Of)