On the Job
Today I slept, woke up, slept. It’s 75 degrees in the middle of damn February and I don’t think I’ve ever had a President’s Day off before, ever. What a country.
Go West Young Man
Well I did. I’m moving to California. Or technically I’ve already moved. For those keeping tabs, I’m now in sunny Santa Clarita, where it’s been raining cats and dogs ever since I got here.
Dear Sir,
I’ve got a poem in your current issue.
the religious girl, the Mayflower
when you started / flying
the heat from your goddamn / soul
was so bad / the dog
sat up and licked himself
the air was incendiary
the people jumped from the ship
and the top of the bridge
just to have a look at you
when you started / flying
i thought i would go deaf
and hear no more loud noise
myself the only loud / noise
in my life
and i wished for a cable to snap
from the top of the bridge
to fall down and smite me /
for godssake //
it was a damn thing
like Lewis and Clark turning
back towards America
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
marzipan network collar bitemark
mother orthodontist
mesmerized
sleeps on her back
and looks so strawberry
with her lips open
you lick her
juicy fat tongue
you say I am sad
I am sorry
I want almonds
the tongue demands marzipan
the mouth demands bitemark
and you wish for milky syrup
voluptuous marzipan–
what would you give to eat it?