Friday, May 20, 2016

5 POEMS



MILLER/BECKETT/LI PO

I visit my birth home.
Flowers fill it.

They fart.
An inflatable Beckett

Escorts me out of my old home.
Our exile knows

So much beauty is Li Po
Drowning in a lake

He cannot empty out.
That's entertainment.


THE BIG ABANDONED MAIN STREET ALL NIGHT

An air hole gets away.
Goes into a keyhole that blows away.
Air is always getting played.
Its true heart rides black anal.


BEING TIRED OF LIVING IS EASY TO DO AND I GET TIRED OF DOING IT BUT

I hate sex and rock the sanity of
An up-to-date unconscious that's had enough of me.

Being tired of living is easy to do and
I get tired of doing it even though

A blue cone and a pink phone sorely attempt
The only thing I’ve ever wanted to say wrong. 


IT’S COMFORTING TO ACT HALF YOUR LIFE AWAY

Sorrow, extinction, Siddhartha, secretion.
It’s comforting to think about killing yourself.
Cars and a radish moo last-minute returns of a second.

Nowhere bound pigeon strap-ons are dogs that roam.
Siddhartha compliments them on their glitter, lipstick and extinction.
A partly finished ceiling pities his thing fully born.

It screws a frozen duck here and there.
They hold a press conference with their southern lawyer.
Trust me, the ducks were down.


I GET GROCERIES

No matter where a cantaloupe is,
There’s darkness.
That’s just life getting groceries.

No matter where my life is,
There’s cantaloupes.
That’s just darkness getting into my calories.

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