PRACTICAL MYSTIC (91)
PRAIRIE FIRE (94)
LIT
Almost 94
Glasnost
Mood Changer 92
Popping poetry
Like it was
Pills
PRAIRIE JOURNAL (92)
BURNING
The bullet stuck under his dick. 92
He lived flaccid
PRAIRIE (94)
BALLADS
I’m so tired of this flatness!!!!!!!! 92
And poems that make fun of fatness
PRAIRIE SCHOONER (94)
SAILING ALONG
I’m tired of people dying!!!!!!!!!!! 91
What do we have here? ‑‑
Words to remember
People
Or
People
To remember words?
Say Fou! 94
For form or our four
Or four for u four
Or for our form
Or four for form (Brava, Eleanor)
Permafrost 93
Froze itself out
How Can She Come? 92
Unsheathing and masturbation
IN THE
PRAIRIE WIND (94)
PRAKALPANA ‑‑ ROBISENA (94)
Pointilism poetry 94
Without the ineluctable
Point
Poison pellet penned on 93
Poison producing paper
Dioxin to describe
Cancellation of chlordane
Inging 91
All
Fukka
Up…..uh…upward
A sideways rhyme (not quite absorbed)
Back and forth in time (adsorbed, maybe)
End rhyme on the last word
Not quite absurd (parenthesis for attached entities)
Don’t eat meat 93
Don’t eat anything
Eating kills you
Everything is everything 92
PRESBYTERIAN (94)
PRESCOTT STREET (92)
If I wanted to cater 92
To the highest common
Denominator of humanity ‑‑
What would that be?
PRESS OF MACDONALD (94)
PRESS OF THE NIGHT OWL (94)
PRESS OF THE THIRD MIND, BILE (94)
One mind to mind my own business 92
One mind to mind reading this poetry
And then, I have a mind to throw it away
He carries his walking stick like a bow 94
A Native American in the shadows
Concrete under his feet
Over his liver ‑‑
no
Over his spleen
no
Over his pancreas.
On the return trip
He balances a comfy chair
On his head.
Hey, hand me a twenty, 93
I’ll give you a wink.
For thirty, I’ll wink
At you …. in Spanish.
STYLE
PRIMAL VOICES VISIONS AND REVISIONS (93)
PRIMAVERA (94)
Right Rite Wrong Wrong 91
Left loved or loved left?
Wronged love or loved wrong?
Left right or left wrong?
Bubble 94
ubble
Bub
bub
ub
Slippery 91
Full‑flavored fish on the tongue
We don’t all reach adulthood
United ‑‑some of us never do
Some of us stay separate.
PRIME TIMES (91)
Hard to Make You Count 91
A list of lists
Or a list of live things
Is as hard to count
As a list of dead mementos
So I add a dropped angel wing,
Ripped from her left side
For your violent poetry
Your “Mommy! Mommy!
It’s a mummy!” lines
Your obituary imagery
Your sea‑shore sloth
Preferring poetry penned for lazy tongues
Like aural sex without foreplay for play
Depending, so much, upon who does the reading
And for whom
PRINCETON (94)
On chalky lines 94
Of stadium imagery
And contrived crowds
He plays an away game
Of the poetic mind
Contradiction 92
Too wide to admit
Darkness
He’s an economy‑sized
Asshole
Life 93
Is a missed
Tree
PRISM (94)
Camel’s squished through eye 94
PRISONERS OF THE NIGHT AMARANTH (94)
Weep not for Argentina 91
Angels’ echoes 92
Angels, angels
Flock of seagulls
Descending angels
Down to the depths
Of my crazy, little, manic
Up/down ma, man, manic, maniac, maniacal,
“N”‑”U”‑”T” spells “Nuts”,
Poetic heart.
Hey, Masochist! I’ll give you a sharp kiss 93
Apocalyptic Entrails 94
Cryptic conclusions
Tryptic‑folded illusions
Chipped dick delusions
End‑trail conclusions
A lah lah lah 93
A dee dee dee
I want to be
Frust‑
rated
AS GOOD AS ANY,
I’M TAKING THIS EXCUSE
TO BE TOTALLY FREAKED OUT
PROEM (91)
THROW `EM INTO A BLENDER TO MEND HER LINES
PROOF ROCK (94)
BEDROCK BARNEY RUBBLE ROCK HEAD/ROCK‑RUBBLE
Reading‑‑can it be taught? 92
PROPER TALES MONDO HUNKAMOOGA DWARF PUPPET COPS GOING FOR DONUTS
(91)
This poem! 91
It actually sucks ‑‑
But not in (all) the right places
Ante/Post 91
Were other people here too?
PROPHETIC VOICES (94)
Poetry is n
Now,
We are fat‑free poly‑unsaturated
PROTEA (93)
Over grass meadow, 93
Mirrored birds,
Breathless,
She went
Barefoot to the Buffet
That smell was deodorant 91
Pheromone
And the genius of the balls
PROUT (91)
GROUT,
ROUT IT
OUT
IDEAS
Our protozoa 91
Dance together
Circuitously
Please stop this!!!!!!!!!
PSYCH IT OUT!!!!!!!!!!
THIS IDEA ISN’T WORKING!!!!!
OUT! OUT!
SO FAR FROM
PROVINCETOWN (94)
With not always tongue in cheek 94
But, at least, tongue in twat poetry
Living In Plasterland 92
Barbara sees
“Twilight polka dots,”
Vases n’ Pottery
Shards of clay
Lying broken on broken shelves
Like living in an archaeological dig
An anthropological ghost town of an industrial area.
Pimp stays a respectful distance away
From his hooker.
This uniform is the only thing which distinguishes me
From the girl beyond the fence ‑‑
And the fact that she’s her own boss.
Her pimp is like a therapist.
I listen to them fighting,
Late at night, after business hours.
She’s the boss in that partnership.
She’s the boss, all right;
She brings home the pork.
We avoid each others’ eyes, across the fence,
Each thinking the other criminal
Or at least negligent of some thing
The other does without, but we could never.
We hardly ever see those shadows
Throwing dead bodies into the Dempsey Dumpster;
The smells are the first signs of invasion, this Summer.
The insects conduct the funerals for those
Smells. The pimp sees my feathered ear‑rings
And calls me a dinosaur, winking, at a distance;
Illogical leftovers of the sixties
And the only logic for the “homeless”
Squatting on toilets with no running water,
Walking the streets at night,
Patching up knife wounds with clear plastic packing tape,
Is not to read the polka dot twilight
As deep or brooding
“`Cus that would be a bad trip, man!”
And not to lay our bodies down for too long.
I sit against the building I’m guarding, as day fades,
And wonder
“How long will it take for the fire ants to find me?”
PSYCH IT (94)
God only knows where I would be 93
If not with him, all those years, abusing me,
But there’s no time to look back there
And only bad, bad, bad, black memories
Can you smell my anger 91
At having inhaled
The raw, rotten eggs
Of your arhythmic verse?
PSYCHOPOETICA (94)
When advertisements 92
And Hallmark
And the war effort
Take the pretty and heroic poetry (for effect)
Then poetry must be
About something other than (just) flowers
And sunsets
If cut flowers and the sunset
Of life, the inevitable death
Are okay (for adverts, Hallmark and propaganda)
Then poetry must
“Rage, rage against” it.(them)
PTERODACTYL (91)
DEAD
PTOLEMY (94)
PUCKERBRUSH (94)
Ultra‑radical 94
Big, bad bully,
Littering
Little pay‑checks
Along the roadside,
Free radioactive pennies
For children to pick up
All these poets trying to be remembered in words 91
All of us, poets,
Trying to be remembered
In words
Rather than words
Remembered
………………..
………..BUT
“I did not kill no cat” 94
PUDDINGHOUSE (94)
A PUDDING PUDDLE
Blister‑wrist 92
Time takes care of the rest
Verbal directions 94
Like a director talking
About the scenery and lights
Blueprints in words for (/an invisible canvas in the
minds (of artists who are tired of/ painting by numbers,/
These are not all that poetry is.
Artists to paint in their minds
Are not all that poetry is.
PUEBLO (94)
PUERTO DEL SOL (94)
PERDUE (94)
PURPLE PATCH (94)
Puce Debussy 94
Cyberspace waves
Pusillanimous tones
The terror of error
New symbols to transpose into
Art/artisan/work translations
And the mother (La M
Astride the information highway
She shrinks from the sun
Never sees their son
Weighs three quarters of a ton,
But she’s in there, on the bus,
Ms. missing, Ms. mini‑millionaire, Ms.
Autoexec
All writers are 92
Great
Graded
Grated
rated
But not all
rate
And not all
ate
at
The celebrity plate
Memories of Max? 91
Thrill me to the min ‑‑
You know, that’s just a few blocks away
From farago
Where he flashed, reflected
In your polished, silver bowl
Like a ladle
PYGMY FOREST (94)
PYRAMID (93)
QUARRY (94)
I met a maladroit? 92
Do they really say that?
Really, do they?
QUARTERLY (94)
QUARTERLY (94)
QUARTOS (94)
FOR THE
QUEEN OF ALL HEARTS (94)
Rodin was not automatic 92
Rilke was something else
AND
ELLERY QUEEN’S (94)
15 inch knife 94
Or standard 6 inch blade?
Always propaganda?
No truth, no news to use,?
Always the half‑back theory?
Always the O.J. monopoly (FLA, CAL‑TEX)?
Always some football legend
Caught up in the black myth?
QUEEN’S QUARTERLY (94)
BOUT BETWEEN
QUICK BROWN FOX AND MAD DOG (94)
Soldiers! 91
You went through Soldier Hell
Don’t tell the story
THEY want you to tell
The story you think we thing we want to hear
RACKHAM (94)
ENDS LIKE HAM
ON THE TORTURE RACK
I GET MY INSIDES SMOKED
Puerto Rico is a puppy? 94
I didn’t say that
RADCLIFFE (94)
OVER A RAD OCEAN OF STARVING PEOPLE
The 92
Blind
Can
Describe
UNDER
RADDLE MOON (94)
RADIANCE (94)
So heavy 91
So heavy, you hope
It’s all fat in there
A collector’s journal? 92
Fat collector’s propaganda?
Do they have diet bubble‑gum cards?
Liposuction leftovers in sealed jars?
This head is a big head 94
nuff said
RAG MAG BLACK HAT (94)
HAIR ‑‑ FORMAL, THAT’S ALL
Do you slaughter your brain 91
Like your cow?
Is that simplicity?
Is that my Elsie?
The fan on the IBM XT 93
Winding down after the circuit’s cut ‑‑
That’s an eighties metaphor for death
During a blackout
Boy, oh boy, there’s a dead body, there, 94
And this is a poem about it
RAINBOW CITY EXPRESS (94)
YOURSELF ON EAST 105th STREET
Art 92
“Unseen” except in poetry?
How does one unsee it?
WHEN
RAMBUNCTIOUS (94)
Ooooh, I wish! 91
I’m round 92
But too fat
To bounce
RANGER LION ROAR (94)
ESCAPADES
A ranger seems 92
A noble thing
Until he creams
Over my girl, Pearl,
And has his friends
Break my left wing to keep me away
From hurting him
And though I’m lesbian, mostly now,
This is an eagle song
FOR
RANGER RICK (94)
TO WRANGLE
RARACH (94)
RARITAN (94)
RASHI (94)
RAVEN (94)
PICKS AT
Vulture 94
Hidden
In the raven’s shadow
RAW DOG (94)
Welkmance 92
Champagne bubbles
And nothing on t.v.
TITLE 94
Sometimes
The whole meaning
Is in there
READ ME
REAL (94)
I’m so glad 91
I’m so glad
That you are alive
On the Gonads of Grief 94
We are worms in a can
BUT NOT TOO CLOSE TO
REALITY STREET (94)
RECONSTRUCTIONIST (94)
FORGETFULNESS
Come share my yearning 94
For… well, not hurricanes nor watermelon
RECORDING ANTERIOR BITEWING (93)
PHILOSOPHY AS
Lens Occlusion 93
Hunter with scope
Thinks he’s bigger
I admit that I am an asshole 92
But I don’t dwell on the thought,
Just write poetry about it
“THEIR PROBLEMS” IN THERAPY, NOW
RECOVERING BLACKBERRY (94)
STAINS
We tear at the scabs 92
Weave word butterfly
Bandages
To seal the wounds
Frigid dark 91
Frigid dark
Frigid dark
OF THE
RECURSIVE ANGEL (93)
Future Poet 93
These lines
Are not enough
RED ADLER PAN‑EROTIC (92)
WASH‑OUT‑MY‑BRAIN‑WITH‑SOAP SOMA
Fish Flowers 91
Spurting Flowers?
Around the world?
A space shot?
We know so many names
For flowers
Like Eskimoes have all those names for snow
How many names do we have for love?
COLORS AND FLOWERS AND DEATH
AND GOSSAMER
VEILED SEX
EROTICA, BUT NO PORNOGRAPHY
REVERSE DISCRIMINATION
REVERSE HYPOPARISTALSIS
REGULAR OLD LIFE
HEIGHTENED TO THE HEAVENS
OF UNREALITY
BOREDOM AND GRIEF
CHEWED LIKE DELICACIES
IS THIS ALL THERE IS FOR POETRY?
NO MORE SPINE TINGLES?
NO MORE LIFE MADE FRESH?
MEMORIES, MEMORIES
OF OLD IMAGES, IN CREATIVE COMBINATIONS
BUT NOT A NEW VISION
OR A
RED BASS? (91)
They dump their waste on us 91
Saying, “you want the good life?”
Hide maps of contaminated areas
Like they hide their combination safes
Inland revenue (for the children)
Pay tax
To play clean
They dump their waste on us
Saying, “The reason it smells funny, like that,
Is because it’s art”
RED CANDLE CANDELABRUM, (94)
A GOLDEN THOUGHT
The nurses talk about snakes 91
Remembering the giant ones
And the little ones
And those that were very different
Maybe the brightly‑colored ones
Or those that were some sort of first
But don’t remember the last
One they see before they’re bitten?
Tomorrow, dreams begin 94
No
Today, dreams begin
No
Yesterday, dreams began
No
Yesterday, dreams had been beginning
No
Day‑before‑yesterday, dreams had begun
IN THE CLOSET OF
RED CEDAR (94)
SMELLS
Dr. Spock’s Little Monsters 91
Some, twisted, turn
On the memorized road
Of “for a nickle I will
Blow up the toll gate.”
Christmas Memory 94
Didn’t need to go to Times Square
To see that
I REMEMBER THE
RED DANCEFLOOR (94)
Confetti silk 92
Incipient stone
Cat‑fight clammor
We’re both in love
With the same woman,
Inside us
Pinched nose 94
Between his crack
Two birds with one
Asshole
RED HERRING MATRIX (94)
OF
RED RAMPIN’ (94)
REDNECK (94)
NOTIONS THAT WE MUST SMILE, BUT
When women go mad 94
In Texas
They stack the men
Behind the dryer
REFLECT (94)
EUPHONIES IN ACOUSTICAL MIRRORS
REFLECT, YOU PHONEYS
REFLECT ON THIS ‑‑
Why ulcerous oysters? 92
Why the false consonance of psychotic passion?
Why the vowel play ploy of sterile rigid?
Okay, Faulkner’s been a bit neglected
Vermillion vermis worm
Mocking the jock? A white orchid oyster gypsy
With tan feet? Oooooooooh‑‑ she and she.
Winter is a Korg sound‑module, 94
Empty until you put some tones in
REFLECTIONS (92)
CAPTURED IN PRIVATE MIRRORS
Editing of 14 year old’s 91
Words
Makes she (her?) look like
She wants her too
Dissappointed tears ‑‑ 92
Should have talked to the receptionist
To make an appointment
REFLECTIONS (91)
WHICH ARE CAUGHT MOMENTS
OF PHOTOGRAPHIC REALITY
The angry poets 91
Who feel and know great injustice
Only to be silenced ‑‑
Are they included in that
“All who love?”
Then, who is not a poet?
ARE
RENDITIONS (94)
OF UNREAL EXPRESSIONS
The rocks, pressed by waves, 92
Are not silent ‑‑
Only, sometimes, unheard
EVEN
RENEGADE (94)
FIGUREHEADS
Witchcraft 92
Is the way
Of the ultimate follower,
The gladly taken away,
Not the renegade
THE GUIDING LIGHT OF THE
RENOVATED LIGHTHOUSE (91)
Images in the flashing light 91
To avoid what things mean to me.
Is it enough? Is it enough
To let the heart know it means… something?
Isn’t that something like a moon without a sun?
Like an asteroid in a black hole?
REPOSITORY (94)
RESIN (94)
THEIR FACE
Knee Legacy 93
Spiked shoes on astroturf
RESIGN IN
RESPONSE (94)
So, Rilke lives? 92
Like Elvis?
RESURGENS (92)
More Babel‑babble 92
REVIEW (94)
REVIEW LA BOOCHE (92)
THE BOOTY, THE BEAUTY
Love is a poet unidentified 92
In the right setting ‑‑
Odds 7:5 (demographically)
REVIEW LATIN (94)
I’m beginning to feel like a Youth‑Vampire 94
Blow your breath cold
Rebreathing
Life into me
REVISTA (94)
RFD (94)
I am a light among lights 92
A spark screaming, inside brilliance,
Not “and nothing I remember
But the forgotten” ‑‑see how it works?
IN
RHINO (94)
“My‑yyy Grandma was 94
Stupider than
Youuuuur Grandma!”
I would like to say 93
This poetry
“Shimmers like a July rainbow”
But this is not true
VERSIONS OF
RHODODENDRON (92)
REMEMBERANCES
Body‑fluid poetry 92
Spurts
Into empty space
BUT NO SMILES
RIALTO (94)
Zen 91
Suicide?
Rowing into Summer darkness 94
In only briefs,
He calls himself, “Poet”
THE
RIDGE (94)
OF MY FACE
I put a flower on the bottom 92
Of these lines so that someone
Will think they might be poetry
Iris
RIENDA SUELTA, GIVEN FREE REIN (93)
RIO GRANDE SE LA VIE (94)
SLAV VEE
SLAVERY
TO THE RAIN
Rushing River 92
It’s not fair to the delta
To be so close to the ocean
With you,
Seedless, tired, running away.
RIVELIN GRAPHEME (93)
NO! COMPUTER GRAPHICS DO NOT MAKE UP FOR THE SMILES LOST TO
RIVER CITY (93)
RIVER RAT (94)
Perhaps, it’s a ball game 94
The sun is out
He scratches balls, rolls bat in fingers
Sheet‑Metal Husband 93
Sheet‑metal machine
Sets the rhythm
For our sex
RIVER STYX (94)
A sound! 92
A sound from the faucet
Flowing into the sewer, the bayou
Then the ship channel
Then the bay and ocean
A sound, a pattering of rain.
Zindi jahh janily rindow 94
Iddle ahroock tanzilly love
Rashandunah guberick dewerdin
Eddmindoon finnelle galuzin dranook
RIVERRUN (94)
LIVING
Oh, Artist In‑vide‑ous 92
in
video
us
Is easy poetry better? ‑‑
Light beer, light beef
Light poetry, or is it
Invideous?
Deer‑Poet 94
Runs forest paths
Scavenging for death
ON THE
RIVERSIDE (94)
Skull skull skull skull skull 94
I think I’ll call this
River‑Rhythm Poetry
(With analogous oars)
OF MEMORY’S
RIVERWIND (94)
Sometimes I stand on my bed 92
And try to piss into the lake
Does that make sleepy sense
To you, watching me,
My belly protruding,
Hips tilted like a man
THERE IS A
ROAD/HOUSE (91)
Up your ass, 91
You flaccid pig!
They should call you
Todd Lesse
FOR NEURON
ROADS (92)
Before making love 92
Lying minds
TO
ROANOKE (94)
I’m sorry but the words 92
Aren’t inspiring me
So, I will use less of them
OR
ROCK FALLS (94)
DOWN DOWN
Butte‑first 94
Echoes
INTO
ROCKFORD TRIBUTARY (94)
ECHOES
Does grammar matter? 91
Does Grandma?
Does new poetry disconnect us,
Looking for obscure connectives?
Writing 92
Lines in car
Auto accident
Tonight, I will not talk 93
About death at all ‑‑
Oops! ‑‑ Already did it.
Diamonds and death 94
Flowers and death
Cold wind and death
Dancing and death
Cars and death
Poetry and death
Death and death
BUT NO SMILES FOR
ROCKY MOUNTAIN POET MONTANA (91)
Don’t juxtapose your words 91
If you don’t want your Cowboy
Doing it the way he did howl
“Up giddy! Up giddy!”
ROCKY MOUNTAIN (94)
TETON/TITS
Was Cezanne a peeping tom, 92
Highlighting bather’s breasts?
Was he not a man?
ROHWEDDER (94)
IN THE SWEAT OF CO‑EDUCATIONAL COMPETITION SKULLING
Dream shredder 94
Talking Tolstoy to justify
Common Bovary’s
Stretching Zola stocking‑stalkings
Sometimes, I pass 92
Words
In thick chunks
CIA, dropping 91
Palm tree microphones
On the Ho Chi Min Trail
ROLLING (94)
IN THE DOUGH
Every martyr is sacred 94
Every suicide is sacred
Every life is sacred
But some tongue‑less people
Work on computers
From the “girth of expulsion” 91
I go “pop”
Bone dirt 93
Gas 92
From dead body
Yellow cardboard
That plastic smell
Of old photos
ROMANCING THE PAST (92)
Tarnished with newness 92
ROMANTICIST ATLANTEAN (92)
SNUBS
THE ROMANTIST (94)
Mass graves to hide swollen 92
Reasons
Sand turned to help blood seep
Away
We go on with a certain
Justice
But justice
Is
Just
Ice
In this desert
BECAUSE THERE’S NO
ROOM (91)
NO
ROOM OF ONE’S OWN (94)
ONLY
ROPE BURNS (94)
OF CONFINEMENT
Christmas cowboy 94
Stuck by his spurs
In the chimney
ROSE SHELL (94)
CONVENTIONS
Automotive Mother Goose 94
Fairy tales for women
And a few sensitive men
(The rest of the sensitive men
Can run home to mama
Like the cry‑babies they are)
THAT DATE BACK TO
ROUND TABLE (94)
DAYS
Dream weavers 92
Should be
Dream plasterers
Plastering the cracks
ROWANTREE (91)
RUBBER PUPPY (92)
BUBBLE PUPPY
FLOATING ABOVE IT ALL
Bagel Dog 92
Has tire marks
Where the car ran over
His back legs.
He’ll never but crawl
Maybe we can build him a dolly
To skate over the hyperbole
Of “days that tread on” your “face”.
THE
RUGGING ROOM (94)
ROLLING OVER
RUNAWAY SPOON (94)
S T I C A L I C T H S S T O O P I D 91
The barn 93
Swallows
Wind
Singing the greens 94
Because 8 percent of males
Are color‑impaired
RURAL HERITAGE (94)
I’m almost used to not knowing where I’m going 92
Since they bought that trailer and sawed off my tail
I get the eerie feeling they’re going to make a show
Of me. (At least give me a luxury ride to the glue
factory)
THAT
SACHEM (94)
You offend the way 92
Vomit offends the willow
These bubbles glistening down 94
My bosom are my toys, my treasure,
My perimeter. These baubles glittering
On my bosom are …..
Men want them
Removed before they see me
CALLED
SACKBUT (92)
Lick my coins? 92
SACRED RIVER BAY AREA WOMANS’ (94)
SACRIFICE THE COMMON SENSE (94)
Turtle crossed the road 93
And I know why
Pain, pain 94
What are you telling me?
Now’s the time
To write poetry?
SA‑DE (92)
SADISM OF SACRIFICIAL ALTRUISM FOR SHOW IN
Seasons of Contempt 92
These new laws like
“The Freedom of Access
To Bathroom Entrances Act”
These new laws are deadly
Are killing my business
Retort!
Re‑
Tort
Retort, but all there is
Is retarded reaction,
Reticence to move the legal
Mountain for this molecular
Tart who screams out into
Blank lust, “I would fuck
The whole world for freedom!”
This tart tastes the tramp
Trickle on my tongue
I can’t blow the jobs back
In this foul, flatulent wind
Of world order wishfulness
I bow my head, beaten
But will bounce back……
Now, I’m on the attack!
ST. ANDREW (94)
At this point, 92
History has a right to say
Of me and my sisters
That everything bad
Said about us was true
That we have been stupid
And whining, trite with
Hacked‑knees
SAINT ANDREWS (91)
ST. ANTHONY MESSENGER (94)
Charity begins 93
….Who cares where?
Saffron 91
In rice
Clumps
To clamor over
Hubby‑bubby 94
You’re a froggie!
Happy anniversary
ST. JOSEPH MESSENGER AND ADVOCATE OF THE BLIND (94)
Snow‑blind, 92
I need shadows
To see
ST. LUKE’S IRIS (91)
PETAL WORDS AND
Those snakes from 91
Hoop‑snake cartoons
And Indiana Jones
Inspired this poem
ST. MARTIN’S (94)
SALMAGUNDI (94)
The Skidmore girls 92
Sneak dates with
Poor poets who have
Earthy, real rhythm
But publish Seamus
In wedding invitations
`Cus he’s …. o‑kay
SALMON (92)
AMBIGUITY
What there was of daybreak 92
Dribbled
Over skyscrapers
SALMON RUN (94)
LIKE STALKING MEN
Catching running vines 94
Of dewberries for breakfast
Took until afternoon
SALT LICK SAMPLERS LUCKY HEART (94)
BELIEVERS
Babba‑loo‑ey 92
Baloney
In a full‑length
Mirror
IN
SALTHOUSE (91)
What there was of daybreak 91
Shouted,
Muffled in the thorns
Of our wedding‑bed
SAMISDAT (92)
Empty frame 91
Where our first dollar
Should have been
Death is not the poet’s 92
Only job.
My favorite poets use it
Like a garnish
SAN DIEGO (94)
Prego, prego 94
Too much salt in the waffles
And I thought the best
Ingredient, the big‑name‑chef‑
Ingredient, was supposed to be love
Orchard Memories 91
Trees growing back
But what does not?
What is this sense of loss
I feel?
What have I forgotten, here?
We were never not lost 92
On this backslide of a booming
Generation,
We were never not lost
SAN FERNANDO CERULEAN MINI (94)
MIRACLES
Okay, if I agree 94
That there’s no use
That all is lost,
Will you still strive
To be a cunning linguist?
Will you test your talent on me?
Can’t get ahead 91
Can’t get head
Can’t get my head
On crooked enough
To make some real money
Like they say, 92
Bullshit walks,
But they don’t mean
The kind that just sits there,
Steaming
SAN JOSE (94)
Mountain woman, will you stay there 94
Stuck
Where you belong
If I write a poem or sing you a song?
Sissy‑pus 91
Depending upon your friends
To “hold me back!”
SAN MIGUEL (94)
Charles should write as 94
Charles more slowly
Squeeze his effusions
Into a tight stream
SANDBERRY (94)
Waking up with “blue sight” 93
Your blue flowers
And blue sky
Would look
Either black or white
Hey, poet, hey hey 94
Help me make it through
The day
DINGLEBERRY FOR A
SANDPIPER (94)
SCRIBING
SANDSCRIPT CAPE COD PROXADE (91)
PRELIM
My lines are only good 92
When people watch me dance
SANSKRIT (94)
SCRATCHES
Hey, Cristy, I’ll put my tongue around you 94
You don’t mind fresh fish, do you?
I’ll call you flounder‑face
And you can keep the name as your own
Poet reads the obituaries 93
To think up new ways
To write about death
IN THE SAND OF
SANTA MONICA (94)
AND DOWN THE BRONZED BACK OF
SANTA SUZANA (94)
The memory 92
A million mouths
Salivating over me
And now I call myself woman,
Know how few men there are
SARGASSO (92)
I need a gas mask for so gassy a poem 92
UNNOTICED BY THE
SATURDAY EVENING POST (94)
To control your man, 92
Fake frustration
SKIPPING
SATURDAY INVITED POETS (94)
Legacy of poetry 94
Written now
To describe yesterday’s
Promise for the future
Looking‑at‑a‑painting‑ 92
That‑you‑can’t‑see‑
But‑I‑don’t‑give‑a‑fuck‑
Because‑I‑can‑poetry
To dam or not to dam 93
That is the fishy question
ALTOGETHER SCREAMING “IT’S FLOUNDER , IT’S STRIPER!”
SCARP (94)
As a poetess 94
And a poet
I have double indemnity
Barney’s, New York ‑‑ 92
That’s where daddy
Got his suits.
So, what?
So, they were good suits
OLD POETS KNOW ENOUGH TO PRETEND TO PAY ATTENTION TO HER
OPINIONS UNTIL THE SAND FLEA SAYS
SCAT! (94)
The Altar 94
I found the title
And expect you
To do the rest
Of the work of
Knowing what
This poem is
WHEN THERE’S NOTHING THAT BINDS LIKE PIPE STRAP
SCAVENGERS (94)
SCATTER
Garp on, dude! 94
Armstrong’s 91
Poetic footprint
Left
(Or was it right?)
Poet lost 92
In cyberspace ‑‑
Can’t make a game
Of words
With only one winner
Loaded pistol 93
That’s all
It just sits there
(EXCEPT A KILLER FROG
FROM
SCIENCE FICTION STAR (94)
My poetry has 94
A footprint fetish
“Hey, Stewy, this is Fred 92
Just thought I’d call to make sure
You knew there’s a crumpled body
Of dead poetry on your front lawn
And it’s starting to stink up the neighborhood”
Silver million brain drip 93
Moons so wave spatter sanity
Melting good‑bye down lunar sky
Madness becomes a voyaging eye
High and up in the Earth‑bound moon‑ship
A your, your, YOUR
IN SCI‑FI HANDCUFFS) CUS THE MANTA RAY
SCOP (94)
BITTER, READY TO SETTLE SOME
SCORE (94)
AFRAID OF AIDS BECAUSE OF THAT
SCRATCH (94)
FROM A JUNKIE’S NEEDLE
Poet, But Not For Long 94
I came to the conclusion
That anything human
Is too tainted to touch
When 3: PM dies 93
Ian cries
AFRAID CUS THE SEALS HAVE IT,
`CUS DOLPHINS HAVE SOMETHING,
AFRAID OF THE
SCREAM, ALTERNATING CRIMES (92)
IN PERPETUAL SURPRISE CONFIGURATIONS IGNORE THE
Redundant ambiguity 92
SCREAM OF THE BUDDHA AFTER THE BUDDHA ROSE IN CRYPTIC WHITE (93)
Casual, anonymous suicide 93
AMONGST
SCREAMING TREES (92)
SCRIPSI (92)
He may be a poetry reviewer 92
But is he a reviewer reviewer
Reviewer reviewer reviewer?
NO RETORT HERE
SCRIPTOR (92)
Poetry For No Cause 92
From an immortal Autumn
And select songs of scarlet
Procession, in perfumed evangel passion
Of tumbling crystal and windflight,
Swift moon, slipping into ardent freefall
Become elements and, with their velvet vessels,
Press to swiftly multiply
SCRIVENER (92)
Slap that bat’s ass 92
If it eats your wristwatch
Leave it alone,
If it only wants insects
Such landscape 91
Such sun
Such an open door
But, where’s the
“Girl in the white wetsuit?”
SEA FOG HARMONY VOICES INJUSTICE FOR A JUST FUTURE (91)
But do you love those old men in the park? 91
Or does it take a real
God to do that?
SEA TAILS (91)
The sharks ate the mermaids 91
Now, you can fear the sharks
FOR A
SEANCE (93)
IN
SEATTLE (94)
She ladys her headlights into me like 94
Bumper car cushions, her electrical switch expertise,
The way she fingers it should convince me
She’s got a man
Wants the switch deep inside
Guided only by Chilton’s
Her book of turn‑ons and turn‑offs
UNANNOUNCED UNTIL THE
SECOND AEON (94)
BECAUSE THE GOVERNMENT KEEPS EVERYTHING
SILENT, NOW, EVEN
SECORD (BIG TWO‑HEARTED) (91)
There IS immediate danger 91
Retort, retort, retort
EVEN
SECRET GOLDFISH (92)
Icarus Hiccups 92
Dad’s hot air
And sporatic spasms
Are killing me
SECRETS FROM THE ORANGE COUCH (94)
Movement between tension and release ‑‑ 94
Music, like that, encounters Xeno’s paradox
Cramped smile 92
Is like a
Cramped simile
OR SO IT
SEEMS (93)
Black dreams 91
Talent eyes
Taloned eyes
“Got no sight” poetry
SEGUE ROOF SEGUE (94)
ROOF LEAK OVER
SENECA (94)
Let the poem do something! 91
PATCH A HOLE IN THE
SENIOR EDITION COLORADO OLD TIMES (93)
OF DROWSY
SENSATIONS (93)
I want my angel, yesterday? 93
Cirrhosis P.C. 91
Sexist, Papa‑Basher!
Mama sucked `em down
As good as any Daddy did
AFTER ALL THE
SEQUOIA (94)
ARE CUT
Is it sexist to say most rapists are guys? 92
Would it be sexist if I were a celebrity?
THE SERPENT AND EAGLE (94)
EXTINGUISHED AND EXTINCT,
SEVEN BUFFALOES PLAY BLACKJACK WITH THE GRAPEVINE AND HOLLER (94)
Paint pretty pictures in my brain 94
And then snap small bones
In the “snowy field of foxtracks”
Dripping blood fluids, all about
THAT THERE SHOULD BE
SEVENTEEN (94)
OF THEM
NORTHWEST OF THE
SEWANEE (94)
Words For A Poet’s Funeral 92
“That elegy really sucked”
AND NO FORCED
SHAKESPEARE (91)
Corporate power 91
Is the perfect tyranny
With no succession
To kinder kin
And no queen, there,
To let love sink in
BUT, BUT, AT LEAST……..
THE BEAUTY OF SHAKESPEARE
OVERCAME BODY SMELLS, STILL DOES.
TODAY’S POETRY IS SO FRAGILE THAT
IT CAN NOT STAND TO BE PISSED ON.
TODAY’S DELICATE POETRY
DOESN’T DARE EVEN TWEAK
THE NOSES OF UNDERGROUND MONARCHY ‑‑
I REBEL MORE WHEN I STRIP OFF MY CLOTHES
THAN DO THE IMAGES OF PASSIVE‑PAINT‑POETRY.
USUALLY A WAITRESS, I HAVE TAKEN OFF MY TOP
FOR MONEY AND FAME AND IT MAKES ME MAD THAT
IF YOU ARE AN OBNOXIOUS,ANTISOCIAL,
UNCOMPROMISINGLY SELFISH,
IMPOSSIBLE‑TO‑LIVE‑WITH‑BITCH
WHO GETS PREGNANT,
YOU AUTOMATICALLY MAKE
THE 8‑DOLLARS‑AN‑HOUR THAT PAYS
FOR THE BABY‑SITTER
SO YOU CAN DANCE TABLE DANCES ON
AND UNDER THE TABLE, AND EVEN
HAVE A GREAT EXCUSE, ANYTIME,
NOT TO SHOW UP, TAX‑FREE, TO WORK
BUT MOST STUPID OF ALL,
WE DON’T HAVE OR NEED JOBS
TO SUPPORT OUR CHILDREN.
THEY’RE FLOATING IN THE INTERNATIONAL
WATERS OF THE WORLD BANK
AND THE MONETARY FUND, RAISED BY EXPERTS,
THE SAME BREED WHO SAY WE NEED,
BUT WON’T FIND, ANOTHER SHAKESPEARE.
SHAMAL (94)
Tis the truth 92
Of these places that are make‑believe
SMALL WORLDS THAT WANT TO BE BIGGER
SHARING THE VICTORY (94)
I am sure 94
You are sure
CONKING HIM THROUGH HIS
SHATTERED WIG (94)
You claim the crack‑dealers 94
As your army
I want mine hooked
On poetry
SHAW (94)
IN
SHAWNEE SILHOUETTE (92)
Death, Disease, Destruction: 91
One would think
Poets could get published
Before them
The black dog of my guilt 92
Eats your white cat
Nah, just kidding
AND
SHEILA NA‑GIG (94)
Good poets need not say “fuck” 93
But what the fuck?
I always had problems with authority
If I do not wear a pink triangle 94
Does that mean I am not queer?
Am not hated?
Am not lied to?
Am not sent for and then sent away?
Am not asked to contribute my life?
HUM
“SHENANDOAH” (94)
Geraldine 94
Is a welcome
Re‑leaf
AND
“SHIP OF FOOLS” (94)
If you had any idea of it, 94
You would not invoke
…….. Poetry, so lightly
FOR A
SHOE TREE (91)
Toe pick 91
Tooth pick
Ice pick
Pick your pick
SHOFAR (94)
FAR FROM HOME
SHOOTING STAR (94)
Sweating and spitting 91
Pages out of you
We, welfare mothers 94
Can not live on minimum wage
Turn the page, turn the page
SIDESHOW IN CRUEL GARTERS (93)
Your poetry is soggy 93
With the sot‑weed factor
MADE IN THE
SIERRA NEVADA (94)
Did I hear you correctly? 94
Did you say
“Sing a song
And suck my cock?”
CLICHES, UNDERSTANDING THEM TO BE A
SIGNAL (93)
LIKE SMOKE
When the poem ends, 92
The world begins
Blood rains and tears rain 91
And coffee rains down drains
And love juice rains
And we dance in the rain
NEAR A
SIGNPOST (49th PARALLEL). (94)
Dead kisses 92
the
Head misses
Dread pisses
on
Shed promises
Milking poetry’s shriveled breasts 91
The poem does not know
It’s sucking on a wet‑nurse
While its mother is full,
Ripe, exploding,
But too busy
Wildlife Loving 94
Scamper Camper
I fire the woods
To make sure
The animals
Are not dead
Ram stall 93
Butt out
HERE ARE THE
SILVER APPLES (94)
WITH SILVER WINGS
Bitter scrabble 94
Letters that
Won’t co‑operate
Sky, sky, sky 91
GOSSAMER
SILVER WINGS (94)
What is time 94
Called in
Heaven?
Where is 92
God
Not manifest?
Are here and now 91
Only a dead‑end intersection
To the hereafter?
Then kiss 93
His feet
EATEN BY
SILVERFISH (94)
Uncle memories 94
What did you make of them?
Occupational poetry? 92
Butcher and barber poetry?
What, of the above, are not metaphors
THAT
SING TO THE HEAVENLY MUSE (94)
All boundaries are lies 91
And the bullet is a lie
And its whistling is a lie
And the pain is a lie
And falling down
Inside some boundary is a lie
The spirit of her tits 94
Took
A rest
YOU
SINGING HORSE (94)
OF THE
SINGLE SCENE
Get screwed.
Just loving is always enough
To assuage any guilt at its loss
SINGLELIFE (91)
You gave your life to 91
The dream you dreamt of me
I did too
So sorry
IN
SINGULAR SPEECH (94)
I’m going to do it again. 92
Hope you get fooled this time:
Irises
Moon like an opening jar, 94
Flowers (let’s cut to the quick)
And death
Grave robbers! 91
I am a bit trite 93
As though my worms rain pockets of pages
As though the sun is rising in the feast of potatoes,
like butter
As though the flowers are brooming up bumble‑trees
PATTERNS OF
SINISTER WISDOM (93)
I whisper, 93
“I don’t care what you call yourself
If you’re not my own little twat‑licker
And if you are, the victory
Is not in saying you’ve been there, done that”
ABOUT
SISTER VISION (94)
AND
No, it’s not true; 94
Women of color do not have longer tongues
SISTERS TODAY (94)
HUSH CORPORATE
A sound! 91
A cellophane sound,
But, yet, a sound.
Father’s Lesson 94
All love is precious
SISYPHUS (93)
SISSY PUS
Bitter about the bitterness? 94
But you don’t feed your man on the right diet
Of love and exercise and tenderness
Ah, well, who needs sugar? You can always buy it.
BUT WATCH OUT FOR
SKAZ (93)
SCAGS AND GERMS
SKOOB (94)
SCUBA DIVING FOR MUFFS
This paper is what I love least: 94
Stealing poems from my imagination
WITH
SKYLARK (94)
TONGUES
Damn Yankees! 93
Desperation Crocuses 92
Planting early
To remind us of life,
Hidden under Winter
(`Cus we can’t seem to remember
There’s life if we don’t see flowers)
There is no “other side” to my biography. 94
I’m open to all
Dawn 91
Arrived
Like a smile
(But not like a simile)
SKYLARK (92)
WING BRUSHES
Put down pudding 92
Because you don’t like
Sugar
THE
SKYLINE (91)
ON A
SLANT (92)
Sheltering the Anemone 92
Go on, eat me
When there’s nothing left,
You’ll move on
NOT WORRYING ABOUT
SLATE AND STYLE (94)
If I could paint 94
I wouldn’t waste all my fuckin’ time with poetry
They Steal the Oil From the Land 93
So I drive to the post office
Twenty times a week,
Mailing out letters of protest
In the fever of Summer 91
I found a pool of water
Jumped in with my friends
Shouted delight
Then Carl Rowan came out and shot me
THAT IS
SLIPPERY WHEN WET (94)
IN THE
SLIPSTREAM AUDIO (94)
All my poems suck 93
I was told I could get 92
My old teacher’s job
If I reported him
For child abuse
In toilet tissue details 91
The big black boot
Of injustice is spared
A forest review
To That Lazy Librarian 94
If you’d been doing your job
She wouldn’t need picture‑books
About pregnancy
She would have read from lines like mine
About what a GRAND time
It is to be on your knees, pumping out sperm,
On your back, ingesting injustice
And how we’re made to pay and pay and pay
For the pleasure
OF A
SLOUGH (91)
SLOW DANCER (92)
At my poetry readings 91
I do a table dance to pronounce
The beauty of the line
Of my legs and hips
To accentuate the body of my work,
Because men (and most women) will listen to nipples
Stuck out in the middle of a tee‑shirt line
SMALL POND (94)
Grandma wore a live fox as a scarf 92
SMALL PRESS (94)
And little lines of poetiferousness, too 91
SMALL TIMES (92)
Living in Reality and Dreams 92
Broken
Fantasy
Breaker,
Broke
THE
SMITH GENERALIST (94)
Forever frozen in mid‑sentence 94
Kick‑boxing karate angels
I will tell you that I really ‑‑…..
LOST THE
SMITH PEREGRINE ‑‑ (94)
BARTH’S “POETIC PARAGRAPH” EXTENDED INTO A BOOK, BY GOSH!
LEAVING
SMITH’S KNOLL (94)
Little boys 93
Skinny dipping
In your pool
In secret
Moonlight
Gotta prepare 94
For pederasts
Like you
BEHIND
SMOKE: WINDOWS (92)
WITHOUT
SMOKE SIGNALS (93)
I crawl into the horn of her trumpet 93
To reach the stars
Gotta care ‑‑ 91
To crack
That earth
One more time
AT A
SNAIL’S PACE (94)
Consider the options, 94
What you could be doing, right now:
Curing cancer
Creating a world
Resting your brain
Licking my bosom
LIKE A SLOW
SNAKE (94)
Love 92
Does not always take on
A particular tone,
Gives in peculiar,
Unexpected ways
IN A
SNAKE RIVER (94)
MISSING THE
SNOWY EGRET (94)
EFFECT
Let me blow my hot air 94
Over your
Conifers
Candles crack 91
Perfect darkness
Gasses shine
In the surround
OF THE COMPANION CATTLE OF
SOCIAL ANARCHISM (94)
AND ANACHRONISM
What people do you remember? 92
The ones who slurped and burped?
Or the weird ones that they wanted to be?
SOCIAL JUSTICE JOURNAL OF CRIME, CONFLICT, WORLD ORDER (92)
And prison was all about brain scrambling 92
Before they gave up and called a trash strike
And threw rotten eggs and sticks and bombs
IN THE
SOCIETY (94)
Battered 92
War and pancakes
Withered 94
Before mankind was so terrible
So hopeless and hollow
You heard the tones of “in whose image”
OF
SOJOURNERS (94)
Earth 94
Earth
Earth
Poet slips in
A spirit
UNDER FRENCH TOAST
I don’t even see 92
Yesterday
Though these tears
SOLEIL (94)
EACH TRYING TO BE A
SOLO FLYER ON SPARE CHANGE (94)
Mutant tornado 92
With double vision
The poem without words 94
Said
Everything I was going to say
DREAMS THAT
SOME BEES (93)
CALL FOR THE HONEY OR
THE (SOMETHING) (91)
(Homunculus said that) 91
SONOMA MANDALA (94)
MANDELA MANIA (GREAT OR NOT)
Necklaces 94
There are people who are combustible
We know this because our solid waste policy
Allows the burning of tires
EAST OF
SONORA (94)
Amazing ‑‑ 94
How the architect of your house
Assumes
That you are not butter
Sucking bronze statues, 92
I lose the flesh features
Of the man that he is,
Deny him his humanity
By denying the truth
Of beauty
Objectifying metal
Like men aren’t able to ‑‑
They’re the romantic ones.
I don’t care about flowers,
Just like to watch them pose
And crawl
PLUMBING THE DEPTHS WITH
SOUNDINGS FOR SURVIVORS OF CHILDHOOD SEXUAL ABUSE ECHOES NETWORK (93)
No one was ever nice to me ‑‑ 93
Not the way I wanted them to be
SOUNDINGS EAST (94)
Muscatine omniscient voice 92
And such limited knowledge of she, they, you, it
Anyone, anything
SOUNDINGS ON THE EDGE CITY, LIVING ARTS (93)
Inbreeding keeps kids from having mad eyes? 93
SOUNDS OF POETRY (91)
The magic snowflake of art 91
Melts when the drummer
Stops sweeping his jazz‑brushes
Across the roof
MAN!
SOUTH ASH (94)
Poetry Calm 94
Moon‑willow words lain out over the shadowy swan,
Perfect pitches of serenity
To avoid ‑‑ ANY
Fuckin asshole coming in and upsetting the fuckin balance
Allright?!
…….Okay,
Swan fluffs its wings into midnight silence
EAST OF
SOUTH CAROLINA (94)
LINGUS
Living on the faultline 92
Of a fart
LANGUISHING ON THE
SOUTH COAST (94)
Seeds sown in our slippers 93
We throw out old laundry
Check the pockets of our jeans
For loose grandmothers
Hava Nagila? 91
Go ahead,
Have one on me
Unsulky Sue 94
Licking all the sweetness
Off of
Your sugar‑daddy’s lust
Like The Last Defender 92
He waited in my fox hole
All day
Knew of nothing else to do
WHEN NOT IN
SOUTH DAKOTA (94)
OR KISSING THE GROUND OF THAT
SOUTH END (94)
OF
SOUTH FLORIDA (92)
Wow, man! 92
Look! See how skillful
The birds are at flying, man?
Wow!
OR GETTING
SOUTH HEAD (93)
Hey, duck, 93
Duck!
(I think I need the other stanzas,
The north side of something, to the left of east)
MIXED UP WITH THE
SOUTHEASTERN FRONT (94)
OF
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA (94)
Boulevard, boulevard 94
All my lines are boulevards
Or have a boulevard
Roses, Rues, and Ruses 92
Bouquet in arms in crinkly paper
We wind our way down French boulevards
With names like Sacre CWWWWWWHIC!
………… Cwwwwwwwwwwwhic! ….
CWWWWWWWHHHIC!!!! (Sorry ‑‑ hairballs)
FOR
SOUTHERN HUMANITIES (94)
AS OPPOSED TO NORTHERN HUMANITIES
SOUTHERN POETRY (94)
A good mount 92
Does not hang, after being hunted down,
Dead, against the wall,
Sometimes, isn’t even horny
SOUTHERN (93)
I ask men for their secrets 93
To expose them
Before they expose themselves
Tee‑shirt Poetry 92
“Up mine!”
SOUTHERN (94)
When is poetry ever like this ‑‑ 94
As dull and as commonplace
As zaz?
SOMETHING OR OTHER
Oh me, oh my 94
Oh, why isn’t life
As dreary and dull
And awful as it is in books
Of poetry?
You have to admit 93
Everyone is crazy,
Completely insane,
Hopelessly lost in the ozone,
So, let’s fuck, huh?
SOUTHERN ROSE TAPESTRY NETHER WORLD SHAMROCK (91)
Ill, 91
I’ll
Will
Will
To Willy
Who will
Love me for it.
Or will he?
WHICH IS NOT CLOSELY ENOUGH DEFINED FOR THE
SOUTHWEST (94)
Weighing the morning 92
On the subjective scale
Of yesterday
OR, IDIOMATICALLY, THE
SOU’WESTER (94)
If morning is the matrix 91
Dusk is the determinant
Picture this one; 94
I envied the bitch in heat:
To be a bitch so openly
And, yet, be surrounded
I’ll describe a scene 93
To trigger visions
So that you’ll listen,
Like the puppy licking my chocolate breasts,
To the last line, which I will
Throw in as a statement.
Live free or die.
SOUNDING LIKE A SOW INVESTOR WHO FALLS FOR A
SOW’S EAR (94)
Perfection 92
Alberto the Cuban rebel/guitarist
Taught me how to split a log for the fire
(9 millimeter bullets are expensive and fun but
also efficient)
She raised her son 94
To be pussy‑whipped
Heavy
Cream curdling in its container
PECKED, LIKE A HEN, THROUGH
SPACE AND TIME (92)
BY A
Beach in Soggy Sand at Low Tide 92
When I want you to focus on that solitary footprint
I have to compromise and stain it with mint
SPARE TIME (92)
SPARROW WITH POLITICALLY INCORRECT VERSE POVERTY PAMPHLETS (94)
Animal Secrets 91
Swallow, Tern, Robin,
Bitch, Ass, Maggot
That man with blond hair 92
Bought a sport’s car
With my money and ran,
Was riding in the rain
With his new girl, Jane,
Cruising along, under
A railroad crossing.
In the glare of night
He didn’t see quite right
Didn’t notice the underpass
Was overfilled
With three feet of water
I guess that taught him,
Maybe even taught her.
The car came bubbling
To its eternal rest.
She hit her head.
(I liked that best)
Now, you see?
That was poetry.
You’re no gardener, not “being there” 91
Finding a familiar, commonplace 94
Thing
Hefty bags to cart away all the
Rejections
Carrot peelings that were
Poetry
Blue bathroom tissue that was used
To wipe
Puddles of tears
After learning about
Death
Just a little
SPECTACLES (92)
I love to see lens‑enhanced eyes 92
Looking up at me, lovingly,
While licking my thighs
FROM THE ENTIRE
RANGE OF
SPECTACULAR DISEASES (94)
THE ENTIRE
SPECTRUM (94)
OF THE
SPECTRUM IN OLD TIMES (94)
OF
SPIDER EYES TABOO TALES (91)
SPINDRIFT (94)
SPINSTER’S INK (92)
STAINS
Now sheets( ironed) are “blank” 92
Not crisp
And old ladies that bore
Generations/ (Bore readers,) get
Only “an hour’s rest”?
(I picture them, lost at their typewriters
Spitting on their grandmother’s legacies
And my grandmother’s too.
You spit on your grandmother’s
Legacy!
That’s why you’re lost;
You don’t know the synthesis of rebellion
The smushing together of pursed lips
The iron is still too cool
To make a good sizzle
THE
SPIRIT THAT MOVES (94)
“What have I done for me lately?” 94
That’s what a true woman of color would say
In my cataract world 92
All highlights
Are fresh‑fallen snow
IN A
SPIRITUAL QUEST (91)
Spiritual quest 91
For punctuation to
Untie unintended
Ambiguity
FOR
SPIT (94)
You read these lines, nothing. 94
When the horizon is bigger than the moon 92
Can you see the crack
In the atmosphere?
Can you see
The brown asshole of fluorocarbons?
TO MAKE A
SPITBALL (94)
Hey, honey, 92
Your eyes are deviled eggs
You ought to see a doctor
CROWD WHO ARE
CAUGHT BETWEEN THEIR
SPLIT PERSONALITY (92)
Schizophrenic Poets and Religious Lovers 92
Hating progress
Loving the fruits of it
Sucking the juice out of their word‑processors
SPOKES (94)
TURNING TABLES SET WITH A
SPOON RIVER (94)
No man 94
Has had his hands up my dress
And down into the elastic of my pantyhose
For years and years,
Since one, (that one, that time),
Who was folding my clean laundry for me
Asked, stretching those plastic containers of leg‑air,
“Why do you wear these stupid things?”
No good answer came and until one does,
I won’t.
Treesap gold 92
Outside darkness
Memory exercises
For potatoes without couches
SQUEAKY WHEELS (92)
Squeak, squeak 92
Squeak,
Squeak
STAND (94)
Man, 92
This ain’t right, man.
I don’t want no fuckin’
Hang gliders
Scaring my fuckin’ birds
BEFORE THE
STANDING STONE (92)
STAPLE (94)
Staple this to your brain: 93
You can call the cat with poetry
We stole a cadaver’s arm 94
From Yale,
Passed more than a quarter
To the poor man working the toll‑booth,
That night
Scat John! 92
I’ve had men like you, John.
I usually stick your faces
In it
Then say, “Bad boy!”
And make you clean up your mess
Before I kick you out the door
STAR (94)
CHARTS
How can I tell the loss of a child 94
From the loss of a lover
When, imagining the child,
I see him as a man grown tall?
I guess maybe I wasn’t supposed
To be a mother.
Hey, Norma, dear, 91
I see you there,
Sitting on your ample
Peripheries
ON
STAR ROUTE (92)
When I see the pear, 91
Passed over the counter,
I see…..
Ah, shit, I can’t lie ‑‑
I see a pear passed over the counter
STARLIGHT (92)
TWINKLES
“There’s a woman, Ira!” 92
I say. He says
“Ah, shit, why bother?”
I agree, leaves more women
For me. Let Ira have coitus
In the open womb
Of his opulent room,
In the cold pit, the dry
Wit of his poetry
IN
STARMIST (94)
Treasures? 92
Don’t natural wonders display their own price tags?
In Another Mist, and Not a Missed Mist 94
I’m sitting
Disturbed
Pressure against
My buttocks
And I’d be happy
To pinch a loaf
But don’t
I need an image, a new image 93
I need imagery, NOW,
Or I’ll go all prosey
Uh, uh
Petunia in a pancake
Uh, uh
Six galloping julien fries
Uh, uh
The moon, sandwiched between lettuce and bacon
Uh, uh
Ice cream dripping onto my sweating cleavage,
Strawberry bosom, scooped by tender tendrils of butterfly
Shrimp ‑‑
Oh! ….
Uh, nevermind.
Maybe all I needed was lunch
STARSONG (92)
Moron of many big words 91
He looks like a zoot‑suiter 92
Spinning keys on a chain,
That precocious little baby of mine,
Playing jump rope with our umbilical cord
STATE STREET (94)
Once there was no imagery worth naming, 92
We had to resort to video
STEELHEAD SPECIAL (94)
The game warden And poacher 93
Entertain each other
Sea‑Sick Fishing Chum 94
Fishing for poetry,
He vomits imagery,
Bait
STEREOPTICON (92)
Crawfish crayon 92
Rolls over
The desk’s edge
STEVAN (94)
STEVENS (94)
Chalk crumbles to bits 92
In the excited teacher’s hands
We, the experienced, know the value of chalk
Occurred to me that poetry is not 94
In the tone of the voice, song it may be
But just the fact that lines are measured
Without conveyance of feeling, thought,
Philosophy even, as long as it’s strong
In what it conveys and meticulous
About word choice. I think it must
Have a certain mystery about it,
How simple words can shine so
STICK LONGHAND (92)
LINE
No embers, here 92
STICKS (94)
Puke, puke, puke 92
You don’t have to puke
Up poetry
That’s what all the guys say, 93
“Tastes good! Try it.”
I say, “You try it.”
Worship his penis 94
The ultimate lie
Both heads will explode
And then he’ll die
STILL WATERS (94)
Hey, ice‑hole 93
That’s some bitchin’ lichen
Ooooops! I must end up
Liking lichen
Hey, don’t sing bird songs to a cat like me 94
Men tell me that, too 92
“My fingers will set you on fire”
But I’m water. I flow through the cracks
Of your luke‑warm deceit
STOHLMBERG (94)
You 94
Really mean nothing to me
I’d rather have a revolver
Than your face‑down, flat poetry
TO THE
STONE (91)
MARKINGS OF
Greenpeace Speedboat 91
Ocean waves become lines of poetry
Splashing, jumping
Toward the truth of the sea
THE
STONE CIRCLE (94)
Iguana on a pile of planks 94
Oops!
No,
It’s just a shadow
STONE DRUM (91)
BEATING
The poverty paradox 91
Third world soup song
Everyone should eat soybeans
I don’t need steak
Anyway, I’m on a starvation diet
OF PEELED
STONE (94)
INTO
STONE SOUP (94)
THEY HAVE US COMPETING
IN DEAD FIELDS
LIKE POETRY
(THOUGH TEACHING AND LECTURING MAKE MONEY)
THEY HAVE US COMPETING
COMPETING AGAINST THE BODY
THAT USED TO BE “OURSELVES”
THEY HAVE US COMPETING ‑‑
NOT THE GOOD KIND, EITHER,
FOR TOO FEW PRIZES
FOR ALL SISTERS TO SHARE IN
JUST ENOUGH TO KEEP US,
SISTERS AND BROTHERS
FROM COMPETING AGAINST THEM
AND WHO IS “THEM”
IF ANY ONE OF “US” KNEW THAT
WE WOULD BE OUTCAST FROM “OURSELVES”
AND WHAT IF ALL THIS IS PARANOIA?
IF THERE IS NO “THEY”, NO CONTROLLING
ENTITY THAT WE ARE NOT,
THAT WOULD BE THE BEGINNING OF PARANOIA
It is easier to pen silver lines 92
When you’re born with a spoon in your mouth
When the blackberry moon rises 94
When the grapefruit moon rises
When the aspirin moon rises
When the crescent moon rises
When the dixie‑cup moon rises
When the donut moon rises
When the pastry moon rises
The pepsi moon
The blood‑shot moon
The bean‑dip moon
The umlaut moon
The incandescent moon
The silk‑stockinged moon
The sugar‑cane moon
When the mayonnaise moon rises
When the star‑kissed moon
The bumble‑bee moon
The tunafish moon
The albacore moon
The dolphin moon
The blowfish moon
The whaler’s moon
When the worn‑out moon
When the pizza moon
When the pock‑marked moon
The chocolate moon
The cold‑coffee moon
The constant moon
When the dental floss moon
When the breakdown moon
The morning moon
When the toilet paper moon rises
When the moon rises
I’ll be there
Waiting for your reflection
Still pulled, like the water
By a tide of memory.
FOR
STONEVALE (94)
I fell asleep in the car 94
Woke up with two men
mauling me
They were NOT embarrassed
STOP LIGHT (92)
ENERGY
She’s a poor girl, but rich inspiration 92
For my, sometimes, slumming poetry
ALONG THE
STORMLINE (94)
OF
STORY POEMS (91)
STRAIGHT AHEAD (91)
“Hello, my friend, so good to see you again 91
I been down so long, all by myself
I just couldn’t make it. Keep on straight ahead”
DEAD DIAGONALS OF
STRAIGHT STANDARD ‑‑ (94)
Radical Lonna 94
19‑year‑old poet
Who says she is lonely
Protests nothing
We ought to take a trip together, 92
Maybe to the beach.
THE STRAIN (94)
IS THAT
STREET NEWS (94)
“Kill My Landlord” 94
`Cus Cambi says we got mushroom clowns
Growing up our asses
(or was it blowing up our asses?)
And tyrant whales about to overthrow us
And just enough air to breathe
To pay off this month’s thrills
FROM THE
STREET (94)
STRIDE TAXUS APPARITIONS OF TROMBONE (94)
SLIDE THE CONSONANTS
INTO A POND OF FLOATING CODAS
FOR THE
STRUGGLE, THE PROLETARIAN REVOLUTIONARY (94)
Does socialism mean that all those young 91
Spikes get an equal share of my pussy?
To each according to need?
From each according to ability?
Would my pussy be under state control?
“Oh, it’s like that everywhere,” I’m told.
Peace 92
Is the Pong
Of the diplomatic
We arrest you for having “no I.D.” 93
That sounds like fascism to me.
I defend the public 94
With my degree, my wits
And 27 years of T.V.
ASPIRING TO
STUDENT LEADERSHIP (94)
IT IS ALL ABOUT POWER AND ACCESS ‑‑
Peace but no fried ship 91
Shards ripped the thing unborn
A can of balls? 92
Are they orange or yellow?
Are they still fuzzy?
Can I play with them?
There’s vision’s glare 94
And there’re sunglasses
Charting shards 91
In proportional integrals
ARE YOU REALLY AN ARTIST WHEN YOU GET A
STUDIO (94)
OR
Copper grows from our mother’s ass 92
TWO STUPID PLACES
WHERE YOU CAN PLOW YOUR MIND’S
SUB‑TERRAIN AND ANVIL (94)
SWORDS
I really don’t need to read the poem ‑‑ 94
Fuck, I saw the movie
FROM
SUCARNOCHEE (94)
I write these lines to tell 94
You I had a bad year,
Feel like a paint‑by‑number
Cardboard clown
With the colors mixed up
INTO
SULPHUR (94)
Brimstone dream invasions ‑‑ 94
Is it the city or some asshole?
Nan’s Last Sneeze 92
Blew her brains out
Busted a blood vessel
The ears go first….
….eh?
EVEN TEMPERED IN A
SULPHUR RIVER (94)
He farts in perfect pitch 94
Arthritic fingers tap the table
Music comes from the strangest depths
Prune juice adjusts timbre
Chair cushion controls amplitude and duration
In old age, he has developed
A new music of all the senses
THAT GREW FROM A
SUMMER STREAM (94)
Made me simile 92
Made me smile
Made me like simile
Made me like simile
Made me smile like simile
Made me like smiling like simile
Made simile like a smile
Empathy 91
Burnout and not a peep from the
Pope
OVERHUNG BY
SUN (94)
COULD NOT MAKE ART OF THE
SUN DOG SOUTHEAST (94)
WHO LIES IN THE NORTHERN
SUNSHINE READING GOOD READING (93)
God’s gone 93
On vacation
During dreary days?
Bud trees the oh! 92
ABOUT THE
SUPERINTENDENT’S PROFILE AND POCKET EQUIPMENT DIRECTORY. (94)
SWALLOW! ‑‑WHAT A MAGAZINE NAME! ‑‑ AT LEAST IT’S
TRUTHFUL ABOUT WHAT MANY MEN MEAN “SWALLOW, BITCH”
WHAT A SWALLOWING
SWAMP ROOT (93)
Kleenex bubbled a bit green 92
Three large specks, grey‑brown
Two little ones
Four specs had nose‑hairs sticking out
SWORD OF SHAHRAZAD (92)
I’m menstruating ‑‑ 92
You want to have sex?
HE REALLY IS PRETENDING TO BE, A
SYCAMORE (94)
I grew a dang pickeral‑style 91
pickle this big!
Nothing happened 92
Didn’t cut my finger
There’s no way around it,
Three bottles
left
Little mushroom 94
Cloud
Where minnow
Used to be
SYZYGY IN THE IMPOSSIBLE UTTERANCE OF A PLASTER CRAMP(92)
Like a like a 92
IT’S FINALLY TEA TIME
T TIME
NOW IT’S T TIME
SHOCK‑SILLY
SCATOLOGY
NOT QUITE DONE WITH
TABULA RASA (91)
Tragicly pretty 91
Cyan starburst
Burning out before
It reaches 7 billion
GET OFF IT!!
TAILS OF WONDER (94)
WAGGING
TAK TAK TAK (94)
IT’S TACKY TO ATTACK
TAKAHE (94)
Classical drips 94
Jazz splatters
Blues drenches
Pop flows
R and R bubbles
Rock floods
A pink gesture 92
A purple gallop
An orange indigestion
A green rope
A magenta avalanche
A puce torrent
A sepia sorrow
Fucia forensics
A violet wrong
TAL TORAH ART (94)
TALES OF THE OLD WEST WESTERNER (91)
STERNER THAN A HOUSTONER OR A YOU‑STERNER
FOR WHAT ONE
TALISMAN (94)
ADMINISTRATOR,
TRYING TO BE
Alphabetical order 92
On poetry
Is asinine
Sloppy Joe 94
In my fingers
Makes me hungry
For the past
A
TALISMAN (94)
Seeing Self in Everything 94
Image of
A personified
Concept
Twisted
By saying the idiom
Is not axiomatic
To the fishing pole
TALKIN’ UNION (91)
We’re talking mob rule 91
Double‑entendre intended
Better organized crime
Than the other kind;
Then, at least, you know
What kind of asshole
You have to be.
When we begin to believe
We’re talking survival
It’s easier to get us
To agree, “Fuck Freedom!”
FROM
TAMPA BAY (93)
Steal this book of mine 92
So I can’t read
“Steal this poem”
TAMPA (94)
The Mountains See It Before We Do 92
But we keep the day
And feed it celery.
TANGRAM (94)
IS DOING
TAPJOE ANAPROCRUSTEAN OF ENUMCLAW (94)
Donna, making crooked tracks, 94
Trudging through the deep snow
And wilderness of her mind’s exile
And the twisted path it takes,
Steal heat from the heart.
Then she wakes, startled,
Dumping half‑gallons of ice‑cream
In buckets, to the freezer floor
Of the grocery store ‑‑
Semantic confusion.
Having left it to cool off
In the walk‑in refrigerator,
It was not an exile but an ex‑aisle
Colors, 91
Fruit
And what they do
(mostly during the week‑end
and on vacation)
Dust in the Wind Variations 93
Ashes in the wind
Dust in the ocean
Ashes in the ocean
Asses in the river
Quick, someone get a camera!
Moliere’s Favorite Software 92
Moliere (short list)
TAPROOT IS BURNING HIS LAST TAPE (94)
Trying to expose the unique 94
And the __(fill_in_your_choice_here)__
In the ordinary
We make the __(repeat_choice)____
More mundane than it ever was on its own
Almost Nothing Is Not Necessarily More 92
Than Nothing
I say I take
Less than I give
And I type faster
Than I write poetry
Interlocking Illusions of Imagery 93
Elephant, Flowers, grass, night, needle,
Trumpets, pebble, Raging, serious,
Breaststroke (They always just have to
Bring sex into it, don’t they?
Now I’m supposed to remember the touch
Of the first man on my nipples,
The RUSH of my first woman
And how it was a homecoming
And how we both were the homecoming
Queen and the texture of various fingers,
The indecent roughness, the calloused
Strength, the tender prodding before lips
And tongue and teeth and the anticipation of …
Well, suffice it to say, there’s just too much
Sex in the body of our poetry today ‑‑
And way too much of it is just attached,
superfluously,
Like a penis.
BECOMES A
TAR RIVER (94)
Zuni‑tunes 93
In The Louvre, I Remember “The Orange Show”, 94
Houston, Texas
Or
Duck‑Pucky Synecdoche
(Not
Get married so they’ll think better of you
But
Akin to seem good)
As the smiling duck for duck‑pucky
As we looked for fifty duck‑pucky landmines
for we looked for fifty ducks
As bird‑pucky for duck‑pucky
As duck‑house droppings for aviary ambiance
As food (ex‑food) for duck‑pucky
As duck‑pucky for duck feed
But not as duck‑joy for duck‑pucky ‑‑
That would be sarcastic synecdoche
And something completely different.
OF FIRE THAT EVEN A
TASTE OF LATEX (92)
Sex Poetry 92
Anger me
Use me and abuse me
Make me crawl on my knees
Slap me
Bite me
But don’t make me
Shake my head
In shame,
Embarrassed for you
When you try to stick it,
Soft,
Into my brain.
TATTOO ADVOCATE (91)
TEAM (94)
EXCRETORS ALL CRYING
TEARS IN THE FENCE (94)
Insurance 94
Seat belt laws that 52% of the people ignore
Laws that fence in pools from the public
Laws that make life both “safe” and stupid!
For whose insurance?
My dogs turns 92
Into
A monkey
Before me
But it still can’t
Climb up a tree
AND
All this concern about 94
The lost children
The invisible children
When the cut comes
When the cute ones
Are in such demand
That it’s called kidnapping
To adopt them incorrectly
And even the ugly ones
Are attractive, cute
To some extent (by comparison), to someone
Bubbling over potential, but
People, like me, pass by
The old lady who sits
With her shopping cart
As a barricade, outside
Of Dot’s coffeehouse every night
They’ll let her feel safe
But not safe enough to sleep;
She sits hidden in shadow, round,
To the side, too proud or discouraged or scared
To beg
SPITTINGS FROM
TEITAN THELEMA (91)
THE LEMA
COULD NOT EXTINGUISH
TEJAS (91)
TELSTAR CAMELOT (91)
The minute of the cat 91
The hour of the cat
The year of the cat
One has more publicity
TEMPEST (92)
When The Work Is Done 92
Spotlessly clean kitchen
Shining, prim,
Is eerie at midnight,
Smells of death
TAKES
TEN LIONS AND THE END OF THE WORLD (92)
Floating into twilight 92
On a raft of lashed
Corpses, bloated,
Rotting, I hope the sharks
Aren’t hungry tonight
IN THE
TENTH DECADE (91)
You know how to waste lines of verse 91
And the trash can colludes
10th MUSE (94)
Star 94
Car
Bar
Car
Far
Tar
Car
Mar
Char
Car
Char
Star
TESSERA BILINGUAL WOMEN FROM ONTARIO IN TRANSLATION (94)
FORGING
TESSERACT BARDIC TALES (94)
Love is 94
Turning a Daughter’s
Bedroom into
A guest room
Or a den
Or something useful,
Not doll house memories
And stuffed animals,
Collecting dust
FROM
TEXAS (91)
“When Insanity Comes Knocking, 91
Throw Away the Door” by D.C. Berry
Was Such a Good Title, I Decided
To Use It In My Title Too
Doesn’t much matter
What comes after
A title like that
TEXAS (94)
INTO A
TEXTILE BRIDGE WHERE MOODY STREET IRREGULARS (94)
Let’s talk unemployment 92
And the Monetary Fund,
The 8 to 28 percent
Psychological sacrifices
To world “order” ‑‑
Chaos is not a butterfly
Order is not butter
IN
THALIA (94)
THEMA (94)
SONGS
Shut (those damn noisy 94
Birds) Up!
My eyes are fruit 91
My eyes are eggs
My eyes are white‑wall tires
My eyes are two toilet‑rolls on the floor
My eyes are portholes into my eyes
(in the mirror)
Fat guy 93
Depressed
Franticly searching
For his lost……
Youth
Preferring to Admire Her Tanned 92
Youth
Blinding, golden
Sun slips
Under her bikini,
Dries the sand,
Digs UV into
Disrupted skin
(Should we tell her
The trouble she’s
Going to be in?
These Tears 94
I won’t be happy
Until the whole world,
Maggot to magistrate,
Plant, vegetable, fish, animal,
All hear me crying these tears
THEMATIC (94)
DURING THE
THIRD HALF (94)
We publish bad poets from 92
All around the world
ON A
THIRD LUNG (91)
Oblivious 91
Complacent, comfortable
In a cage,
Squeezing in on you
WITH THE
THIRD WOMAN (92)
Begging for romance, 91
Deprived of your beauty,
I press my lips against your window,
Melt the coating of ice ‑‑
So what, if I get stuck here
For the Winter?
13th MOON (94)
THISTLEDOWN (94)
DOWNED
THORN TREE TROIKA (94)
SHUDDERED
Thorny Subjects 94
Guns, trapping, bullets
Potatoes, potato velocity, etc.
Teaching me to “lick the underside” 91
You bring down the hatchet 92
To chop the time‑line,
Cut me off from the past
Rasp 93
Crusty wood
Filing away
At your unshaped
Life
To expose
The whittling
Death
Underneath
Creating the monsters of a bad trip, 94
Goofing, they used to call it,
Scaring up images of animals
To inject into our dreams
Scarey scarey animal kingdom
Scary dark Africa ‑‑
You make me wonder
If you aren’t a hunter
Or a land developer
Or a concrete contractor
Or a politician
THOUGHTS FOR ALL SEASONS (94)
Beware the epigram 94
It makes everything average
While life is both boiled and cold‑slawed cabbage
(And farts, and potato salad
and baked beans and burps)
Maybe not the pithecanthropus epigram 92
Pithecanthropus is too pithy for me
THREE CONTINENTS (94)
OF DYSENTERY AND INCONTINENCE
My old father 92
Is my conscience
My new father
Is my ego
But I’m still
Looking for my
Birth father,
My id
CROSSING THE
THREE PENNY (94)
THRESHOLD (94)
WITH
Poetry Deadlines 91
I have this way of talking
When I’m behind schedule.
I talk about poetry
Because the lines are too prosey
Then I throw in a description
To try to fool the reader
We’ve given up writing poetry 94
It’s all these bills and debts everywhere
All the romance of knights and princesses
Is squashed under a rotting roof, falling
From termites and tradition
THUMBPRINTS (94)
Sometimes my pen is full of shit 94
Sometimes words leak out
And dysentery becomes brown scribbles
For/Of smelly expression for me to tout??????
Don’t hold your breath 92
Sometimes my pen is full of ink 94
Sometimes it spurts forth words
Sometimes it gets stuck and won’t roll around
And even licking its tip won’t get it going
Cents 91
Sense
One doesn’t make the other
In the poetry biz
TIA CHUCHA (94)
I shoved a dildo into your throat 94
To show you what it’s like
To have to mouth your bad poetry
Wrap my lips around
Your twisted psyche
Lick your tortured syllables
Gag on your thrusts and parries of the truth
Kneel before your delicate(ly barren) sensibilities
Smile when you claim
That what it really means is
“I love you, only you.”
TICKLED BY THUNDER (94)
She put an elephant in his coffee 94
Donuts on the side
Called it “mad‑lib” poetry
And left by the window
IN A
TIDEPOOL (94)
Now, the creek 92
Where I first
Fucked him
Is polluted
BESIDE
TIDEWATER (91)
Always got to besomethinglickingsomething?91
TIFFANY (91)
Lucky Visions of a Lady 91
First edition
Parole replacement
UNDER
TIGER MOON STAR TRIAD (94)
Magical Music 92
Melody
Whispers
Promises
In The Underground Passage of the Ruins of Rome 94
There,
We met and stripped off
Our clothing
To drip fevered perspiration
On the stone steps
Where Romans soaked up
The blood of tourists
For the imagery
Of great moments
Great big hotel bills
And Global rhythm
World beat
Night club booze that was often uncooled
TIGHT (94)
EPESIOTOMY MIRROR OF ‑‑
Brace yourself! 92
Here’s an image ‑‑
My cousin’s braces.
Hee‑hee
Nothing delicate 93
About the
Spring
In my couch
Joy 94
Is a time‑release capsule
And grief is a bad cold
No! Wait!
Grief is a time‑release capsule
And joy is a bad cold
TIGHTROPE SWAYING OVER THE SWAMP (94)
WHILE POETRY CUTS BACK ON FAT
I seem to mix up 92
The shadows and the highlights
On the surfaces
Of my poetic imagery
TIMBERLINE (94)
TIMBERLINES (94)
CARVED IN TREES
Sweet tree lines 94
(Awash) In fall colors
So to hear the sound of “timber”
ABOVE
Imagery‑scrambled eyes 94
Blanched by clouds
In the shadow of mountains
Gravity is skewed
But is not so much mystery
As is the meaning of “crickets”
TIMBUKTU (91)
BUCK TOOTH IMPRESSIONS THAT IT’S A
Lick this “T” 91
TIME OF SINGING (91)
Patmos glaucoma 91
WHEN
TIMES CHANGE (94)
ONLY IN THE
TIMES LITERARY SUPPLEMENT (94)
TAKE DAILY WITH MILK
TIN WREATH (94)
AROUND THE WRAITH
What’s In a Name? 94
Michelle
Not a bad couple of
sounds if one ignores
the “pattern” patter
and the “patrons”
All those rich women 92
Carrying around celestial bodies
(The sun, the moon, the stars)
In their purses
While, we, less fortunate ones
Must cherish them
With pursed lips
HUNG NEXT TO THE
TOAD HIGHWAY OF STONE TALK (94)
Not Finding the Proper Form at the Back, 91
She Exploded Into Her Favorite Escape
Her fit didn’t fit the format,
So she stormed out and found shoes
That would fit
You love these lines of poetry, 93
No matter what you know
Shaken, 94
Not that the world
Is changing,
But that there’s nothing
Familiar;
The hype’s so good
NEAR CHATTER
TOLEDO INMATE ARTS GLASS WILL (93)
IMPOSED,
TOOK (92)
TORNADO ALLEY (94)
EXCAVATIONS
Zoos and “Zoot alors” 94
Exist, essentially,
As treasures.
Zoo‑keepers
Tend to the animals
With love
And poets
Build
A natural habitat
For astonishment
THAT NO ONE CAN EVEN
TOUCH (94)
Shall I put a moral 92
Into a verse with rhyme?
Or should I, rather, get a job
And make some profit from my time?
I wish I talked 93
Ching, thump, whir
Clank, phizzzzz.
Then I could talk
To my car
Shall I Compare Myself With Me? 94
Better not. Competition’s bad
And mnemonic schizophrenia’s
Still a possibility
BECAUSE PRISONERS ARE HUMAN, NOT
TOUCHSTONE (94)
Coin in a fountain 92
Coin in a cornfield
Coin in an empty street
Oh, where have you been, little coin,
little coin?
Oh, where have you been, darling money?
Appreciation for poetry 91
Starts when you realize
That these lines suck
Beware of 1st and Main! 94
That’s where I saw a vision
Which inspired another poem (not this one)
TOUCHSTONE (94)
HEARTED LUMPS
After Occupying Hollywood 92
Washerwomen
Mothers
Wives
And whores
Populated poetry
EVEN IN THE
TOWER (94)
Nah, 94
He ripped open the “I”
That never again was shut
And turned his lover,
Poetry,
Into an aging slut
FOR THE PEACE OF MIND FOR
TOWNSHIPS UNDER SUN (94)
WHO GAIN BY CONCENTRATING ON
Village maples 92
Burn for tourists
TRADESWOMEN (94)
TRADITION (91)
TRAMP (92)
TRUDGING
Tramp tree 92
Out of mythology
Pulls up its roots
And leaves
AND THEIR
TRANSLUCENT TENDENCY (94)
Homeric Heroine‑addict 94
Stuffs Moliere’s methodone
Into Alice Walker’s arm
(Even though it’s only legal orally)
TO SPEND MONEY ON
TRANSNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES (94)
Gray‑coloured, 92
British
Beauty fades
(While some of us, here,
Keep replacing parts
Until the car rusts away
From inside)
Poetry Titles 94
“1989, A Pivot Year”
“1990, A Pivot Year”
“1991, A Pivot Year”
“1992, A Pivot Year”
“1993, A Pivot Year”
“1994, A Pivot Year”
THAT
TRESTLE CREEK (94)
Fond of the frond, 92
The limb chandelier
Of her maple syrup
Is sappy and sweet
To my tongue
Interplanetary Geophysicist Poetry 94
Plural/ singular
Agreement
Mars the reading
Of lines about mines
And yourses
CALLS PROPAGANDA ON A
TRIQUARTERLY (BASIS) (94)
A Simple Statement 91
ANY person
Who fights authority
With fists against guns
Anyone who needs to get in
A few blows of her own
When the police come
When the guns are drawn
When the handcuffs are tightened
Any fool who wastes
Revolutionary ardor on being
Beaten, without even martyred
Possibilities, without a video,
Without waiting for a lawyer,
Without finding out first
What is really REALLY going on
Is more a part of the system
Is more fraternizer, more of a cog
Is more of a traitor to any revolutionary
Cause, than is the apathetic or the fearful
And any fool who thinks murder helps
ANYONE but the superstructure
Which exists, right now,
Is lying when she calls
Herself informed or revolutionary
Because death has always been society’s
Most useful tool.
TRONA RAG OF NO ALLEGIANCE, ASKING
“ARE WE GOING TO A FUNERAL?”
THE IDIOT’S FRIGHTFUL LAUGHTER(92)
12‑Step Addiction Addiction 92
Poetry is not a drug
If anything is not a
Drug like the little pills
In the brain of prayer
INVADING
TROPOS (91)
In toto, illiterate, I 91
Envision
Myself endowed
With romance
Languages
but
uh
Well,
That’s no excuse
To “
Nuzzling soft,
Wonder‑fluff flour
And Chips Ahoy!
Disability? 94
Are the “disabled”
Still
“Disabled” when
Dead?
TSUNAMI (94)
SO SUE ME!
ON SCHEDULE
“She” should have been 93
A good girl
And buttered your potatoes
Too
It all depends upon 91
The rigidity of thought
WHY SHOULD I BE FRETFUL ABOUT THE FOIBLES OF MEN?
I WANT FEMALES THAT I CAN RESPECT AND LOVE,
DON’T CARE UNLESS WOMEN MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES
CLAWING FOR THE TOP
FEELING UGLY
SAYING STUPID THINGS ABOUT LOVE
Sickness shows up 92
In those Dr. Kildare, Ben Casey poets’ lines
Because they can’t face death and censor sex
And lost their “Birds of North America Guidebook”
And lent flower catalogues to a real gardener
And gave Bullfinch’s Mythology to Grandma
And all they have left for reference
(Since they mostly avoid boisterous life)
Is that yellowed Gray’s Anatomy from when
They thought they might study “Pre‑Med”,
Until they realized that physician’s assistants
Were going to be having all the fun and profit
Was going to be reserved.
SO THAT
TUCUMCARI (94)
WON’T CARRY THE LOAD ALONE
DO COME, KERRY! DUKE HIM, HARRY!
DO KIM CARRY?
SHE BE STRAPPED?
SHE BE BALLISTIC, BABY!
Plant Trees, Not Three Plants 91
Go lots, go!
Go lots(in kulots)
Go lots go!
Golots and Helots and Shelots and Welots
And bigots and whatnots in factory car lots;
Now, that’s what I call a lot of diversity.
War In the Abbey 93
She raised her face,
Felt a kiss, said, “It was holy,”
But the sisters Did not concur,
Did not think the Holy Ghost
Would ever wear red lipstick
And, anyway, all but one of them
Never really liked her.
Then came the abyss.
Flight Path: A Villanelle 92
Ah, Well, What the Hell?
Flight Path: Free Verse
Dark light
Images images
Moon vector
Cloud blur
Rim‑jets
(With little rust‑trails
In suggested spirals)
Dark light
I still can’t seem to get it
Right
Come Cat Come 94
Jerk‑off juxtaposed,
Nah, just angler‑tangled,
Caught in fishing lines
LIKE THE
TURBULENCE (94)
OF BUBBLING GREASE,
TURKEY (94)
ON A THANKSGIVING
TURNSTILE (92)
TURNSTONE (94)
On the road to neither
a prairie nor a prayery poem 92
TWISTED (94)
I’m twisted from a color‑spot game 92
Of trying to touch tits with the reverence
Of the word “breasts” and Twister that I am,
I smell mostly plastic
You think the spilling of blood 94
Will make you remembered
When anyone anywhere
Can spill more than your match
See what I mean?
Blood, blood, blood
Blood‑‑‑ and it’s the fourth
Blood you’ll always remember?
Blood , blood
Horror is a hiding place
From
Mortality
BY
2 AM (94)
FOR EVERY
TWO PENNY PORRINGER (94)
TYRO (94)
Tompoet 91
Sentient ‑‑ A nice word
Most of the time, my lover is a “guy”
And still is sentient
Maybe I’m the one who sounds male,
In comparison, but
I had a poet big brother
I used to play poetry
With the boys in the schoolyard
Sex and Death 92
Rope burns
From
Suffocation sex,
I prefer to keep the two
Separate, as far as possible,
TYRANTS SQUASH PUMPKINS, SAY
“WE GAVE YOU ALL THAT
LESS‑TAX STUFF
NOW YOU OWE US MORE”
WHILE POETS PEN POEMS THAT
REACTIVATE
ONLY CHILDHOOD CARTOON MEMORIES
WHILE TWISTED‑BUT‑TRUE TALES
FADE
FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE
U.C. (92)
YOU SEE?
Frag‑Pixle‑Monster‑Stretched Skulls 92
In The Highlights
I see,
Through the painted eye,
I see
ULTRAMARINE (94)
UNCLE READS THE MAGAZINE FOR THOSE WHO HAVE GIVEN UP,(92)
Graffiti Plague 92
Thy thou
Shall
Drop trou(‑sers)
Bend over
And take
Four lashings
Of the tongue
HIDING IN THE
UNDERPASS (94)
Europeanization 92
For a colonial nation
“Versailles” says something 91
Hall of history’s mirrors
Labyrinth 93
Entrances
So you think it could be ‑‑
Labyrinth entrances?
So B.Z.’s been to Paris, huh? 94
Bedazzled piano keys
To a stripper’s rhythm
Lock
Out changes
For one famous
Name’s sake
To recognize
Another’s talents
In the broomed sunlight
Of infidelity
UNDERWHICH (94)
Feeling His Eye 94
Then lumpy
Oatmeal warmed
His insides
There was fire
In the furnace
Astigmatism
Of cross‑eyed
References
Poking fun at
A sty and stigma
Attached
To infection
Inflection
Flecks of dust
Shake the 91
An idea
Live in
Infinite unities
(Unless it’s a uni‑
Tie that you have to buy.
Then just a few will usually do
[are usually enough])
Tainted by proposals, I 94
Don’t dare approach beauty
With psychology.
Overly impressed
By a good body
I can’t find a model
For my poetry.
UNITED (94)
Witnessing 92
Takes no certain tone
And it’s your religion’s
Failure to leave that unknown
UNITY FOREGOES WEE WISDOM (94)
2 92
I’m not allowed to be sick
So I pop pills, wishing I could
Fly
Away
1
The editor didn’t
“Understand”
The street names I knew
IS AN
UNMUZZLED OX (94)
UNSILENCED VOICE (94)
Ha‑ha ‑‑ Single raindrop 94
Maybe it was bird shit
SPEWING
UNSPEAKABLE VISIONS OF THE INDIVIDUAL (91)
I confess! 91
I confess!
My poetry is neither
Visual nor beat oriented!
UNTITLED (93)
A cliche is like a bad simile 93
Not a rotting smile
Nigh‑visi‑t‑on
….. He said
Past crying, men and boys, left naked before
Heaven, scream before she has taken all eyes.
Hell ghosts in floats left a window
Times a thousand. Veiled dreaming of the thousand
Naked mid‑nights, more lady to princess,
She’s my my and and through.
URBANUS (94)
Can’t 94
“Revoke”
Life fuck‑ups
On the laws
That created them
Less Motionless 92
More Todd Moore
I skid or I skidded?
That kid should be kidded
His eye lids are shut, lidded
By picture bids bidded
On what he did when he did it
Because paper and ink
Are cheaper than paint
In adrenaline animation
Of some slip‑silly mistake
That was not even half‑witted
URBAN URBANE
US1 WORKSHEETS (94)
INVADE
UTAH (94)
I saw a heron 92
Spread its wings
Over the entire horizon
But now loons are in vogue
Spreading wings across the cover
In the very latest fashions
WITH
VAGABOND (92)
Unions and Subsidy 92
Prevalent now,
Big brother vice‑presses
A 2 X 4 against it
To make sure he confesses
With an unfurrowed brow
VALLEY WOMEN’S VOICE (91)
VALET WOMEN’S VICE
BALLET WOMEN’S VERY NICE
CHOICES
Cry For Me, Argent Tina 91
The seance sucked, tonight
And I missed a mystical flight.
Now all I can do is write
About how my life is so trite
VANDELOECHT (94)
VANITAS (94)
UP YOUR ASS
I eat meat 94
That’s meant to hang
Have a taste for humans
But am no cannibal
A muck‑raking ox 91
In an Oz of ours
Ran amuck, broke his chain
And trampled the flowers
(And took a big chunk
Out
Of the freedom of the press)
Charmed Garters of Ox 94
Not quite my cup of tea;
When bloodied, the children have to be
Given a reason for a decree
(If not da crow on my backyard settee)
Which makes “meat” merely
Flesh eaten
Not sucked, nor kissed, nor beaten
Into riding submission. He puts on my
panties and fishnet hose
And makes a
For the store
Who would keep them
From going extinct?
But 91
I love 92
Butt 93
The big problem with diapers 92
Is not that they pile up
Love‑traitor 91
Race‑traitor
Species‑traitor
I can’t tell the haters
From the lovers
But, then again, vegetarians scribbled on paper93
That was made from cut‑down trees
Sat at chairs and desks made of tropical wood
Drove smokey cars all those extra miles to the
Whole Foods Market
And made a mess in their own bio‑degradable
clear‑tunneled ways.
VEHICULE SIGNALS (94)
Pulling violence out 94
With limbic insertions
Implanting the peace
Of a mere machine
That only requires gas and oil
Blink blink 92
I’m so glad to have gotten a guy
Who gets up
In a good mood
New Car Lot Pictures, Posted: Ads Up 94
Vehicle vestibule
Granual ridicule
In annual intervals
Pecuniary tentacles
CAR
CRASHING
INTO A
VER (94)
ROOM
VARROOM!
VAH VAH VOOM
NO LONGER
VERY VERTICAL
PORCH
ACROSS A YARD
Fuck You, May 92
When you personify
Me out of the picture
Don’t expect me
Not to cry foul
Or take it personally,
But of course, you can’t tell
And don’t really care,
So, I say, “Oh, well”
At least sun and earth are there
For you
To pay attention to
Don’t sit on my pew‑end 93
or goo‑end or spew‑end
I really want you back 91
But before you come
You have to promise
Not to go through
My trash anymore
Because, now,
I’ve shaped up
And am prettier
Transmuted 93
Here, shining, she,
A glinting and slippery mermaid,
Creature of and on the green end,
Waves and leaves again
But
There, the stone trees are solid
And the man, reduced, subdued,
Not wooden, sits through the wood pew
To “they”, transmuted.
VERANDAH (94)
Soft, Bi‑Sexual Pelicans on Salty Haiku 94
Fucking pelicans
Beaks flapping
In sperm‑feather wind
Sticking to the sand
Along the cream beach
OF
VERSE (94)
Cutting Wind 92
Razor, razor
Raise her ardor
Razor, razor
Raise the wind
Razor, razor
Got to get
A razor in
VERS‑QUEBEC (91)
WITH
VERVE (94)
IN
Imaging 94
Thinging
Plusing
Inging
SPORADIC BURSTS
Old Porno Picture Lover 93
He’ll see stormy tongues licking gutter‑dogs
See bitch leavings
Loving the money
He hopes to see a spider‑net stocking crawl
Along the floor on long legs
When the sac gets drained, maybe
He will see water, plunging through pipes and see
Man seeping in, some gamete,
But he speaks for himself
A year before he died,
My grandfather didn’t say anything
To me and I didn’t call him.
I was far off and working on a
Call‑girl’s career
Sexual Harassment At Home 91
Dinner is burning
Shoe‑lace undone
Catapult the garbage
Black, flying fish
Hidden in aerial shadows
From vicious cats
That wish us dead
Because the dogs get the scraps
And the cats
Don’t frighten the bad guys
Who hoot and howl
From hungry shadows
And only subside
To commit more murders
And all this mess
Because you wouldn’t listen
When I said, “No.”
Mortified But Not Fried 92
…. And “she” will be
Ever mortalized
In the dying lines
Of my “she” poetry
VESTAL (92)
No Gore Allowed 92
Virgin in a vest?
Virgin vessel?
Romance?
Sword dance?
Vestal virgin
Eggs, over easy
With catsup
VICTIMOLOGY (92)
OF THE
VIETNAM GENERATION (94)
Dishonorable discharge 94
Because my brother didn’t keep
A good
Black book of names and situations
A list of embarrassments
A list of bare ass minutes
With the lieutenant who lied,
Took the brunt of the frag,
“For the guys”, and my brother’s
Dishonorable discharge.
FOR A
VIGIL (93)
VIGILANTE
He lived with 92
A purple tie
In the closet,
That the moths
Fell in love with
Immediately
SO THAT THE
VIKING PENGUIN (94)
IMITATES
VILLAGE IDIOT, MOTHER OF ASHES (94)
fall down 92
walnut
pudding maker
VILLAGER (94)
NOT MANIFESTING
VINCENT (94)
Daisy chain 94
Of Herpes/syphilis
(spirochete)
Genital sandwich
Of HIV crystals
Norepinepherine
Minus one
Oh please
minus one!
Dad explained 93
How hard it is
To understand.
Electromagnetic 92
Speed‑of‑light
Shit‑burgers
Golden parsley 91
Hide from Momma
She’s been shopping,
Got a bag full
Of vitamins.
VIOLETTA (91)
Crawling back into 91
Mother Earth’s
Ocean,
Face smushed
TASTING
VIRGIN MEAT (94)
DESTROYED
VIRGINIA Q (94)
VIRTUE (94)
How To Mop Mud With Grace 94
Let Grace
Scoop
While you
Swirl
So, I’ll just sit in my skinny office, 91
Remembering Moses and Donald and all
Insert my stubby fingers into children’s brains
And sniff the juices while I watch their pain
Then I’ll take the whole thing
Back to Moses again.
VISIBILITIES (92)
IN
VISION TEAM (91)
TO BECOME
Cicada cicada 91
What ‘s your favorite flavor?
VISION SEEKERS (92)
Psychic turn‑down 92
Psychic turns‑down
(Psychic turn‑downs )
Psychic turns down
A two‑way street
A westward highway
With lost hyphens
Under a highway
With lots of hyphens.
VIVO (94)
Durable river on dramamine 94
Luminous air polluted by pollination of words
Where “Death is Granite
With an underwater iris
I can’t bring myself to comment ‑‑ Vivo!
VOICES INTERNATIONAL (94)
Squishy earth 91
Eats my wheels
In self‑defense
The hot house of my Winter 93
Was a guard shack
And fantasy
Was the delicacy of my womb
Oh well 94
When I sat the shrunken
Onions
With green shoots
In the hanging basket,
The kitchen
Smelled
Of the sauteed liver
You used to prepare
So well
Oh well
VOICES ISREAL (94)
Guilty 92
Virus‑like
Little whinnies
From a hoarse
Pederast
How can I sit shiva 93
On yon kipper
Without getting Shiva’s
Bottom oily?
This is for the poet 94
That steals ideas
But has understood them well enough
To give them their own credit
WOMEN IN THE MOON (94)
WOMEN IN THE MOOD
“No sexual abuse themes this year” 94
just lessons on how to lie
and like it and to be proud
of your deceit and devices
while i am still sexually abused
I sketch my women and men with words 91
Because most of them look like misshapen nerds
Tickling my thighs with their four eyes
Face dancing like polyps
Blowing smoke out my eyes
Subtlety about AIDS 94
Is not uncalled for
Deceit
But it is in a higher sense
Uncalled for
IN WANING
WAINWRIGHT (91)
Sister Mary Motions 91
Crosses in Greek and Roman
WAKE FOREST
(94)
WALKING AND SINNING ACCELERATOR (92)
WARTHOG (94)
REMARKS
WITH 27 CYLINDER
WASCANA (91)
ENGINE, FORBIDDEN IN
WASHINGTON (94)
The lime reason dentist oath had thrush tank92
Redundance
Face in hand………….. 91
I’m an old fart
Publish me!
WASHINGTON (94)
“Spout” wrecked it 91
Made me think
Away
An itsy‑bitsy bit
And drink a sip
From the water spout
Death 92
Lies
Life
Life
Lies
Death
Let’s see…. 94
Patient as bacteria
Patient as pock‑marks
Patient as plaster
Patient as a rubberband lobster
Patient as a bullet
Patient as a hungry goldfish
Patient as a lump in the throat
EXCEPT THE LEGAL
WASHINGTONIAN (91)
WITH A LEGISLATIVE
WATER MARK (94)
HIGH
Wildflowers 94
Blossom
Toward the sun
Wildflowers
Blossom that way
Toward the sun
AT THE
WATERFRONT (91)
WATERWAYS MAINSTREAMS (94)
SELF‑REALIZATION
Here I am in a seashore scene 94
Riding the waves of words
Seeking the shadowy shoreline
Never forget…… 92
Shit!
….. I forgot what.
ALWAYS LEAVE THEM BEGGING
FOR YOU TO STOP
GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO TAKE HOME
TO DIGEST
SOME STICK‑TO‑THE‑BONES
POETRY
Stopped! 94
Color‑blinded
What does cobalt‑blue look like?
FOR
WAYNE (94)
WHILE
WE (92)
OR, RATHER,
I saw the bald guy’s head 92
Reflected in the sky ‑‑ no lie!
WEBBER’S (93)
I once called the state of Texas 93
“Zick‑wick‑nik‑nik”
IN
WEBSTER (94)
WONDER
Eyes open 92
Black
(Venetian)
Blind
Fast‑food buffet reminds me 94
Of the day I was born and wasn’t
Scooped like a C‑section
Into shallow plates
At a good food‑cost percentage,
Delivered,
All prepped,
By the truckload
AND
WELTER (94)
BESIDE
WESLEYAN (94)
WESLEYAN (94)
Everything 92
Becomes you ‑‑
Except the white dress
(I want it)
FREAK OUT!
DON’T MAKE A SCENE
FREAK OUT!
HOW MUCH DO I FREAK OUT?
LET ME COUNT THE WAYS.
I FREAK OUT WHEN I HAVE TROUBLE
BELIEVING IN THE RHYMES AND REASON
FUCK IT!
I FREAK OUT WHEN I FEEL SICK
I FREAK OUT WHEN IT DOESN’T SEEM
WORTH IT ANYMORE TO TRY TO CHANGE
MYSELF AND OTHERS
WHEN MOVEMENT IS JUST
TOO MUCH FUCKING TROUBLE
FUCK IT AND FREAK OUT!
FUCK THE PUNCTUATION,
FUCK THE COMMAS,
I GOT A POETIC LICENCE
ELITIST, I KNOW, BECAUSE
THERE ARE SO FEW OF THEM ISSUED
EVERYONE HAS POETRY TO SHOW MOMMY
FUCK THIS SHIT
I WANT TO CRY
I DON’T WANT TO DIE
I THINK I’M CALMING DOWN
I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK
DON’T WANT TO BE
FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE
WEST BLUESTONE (93)
Watching the words 93
I am aware
That the line
Between
Wisdom
And
Folly
Is also the line between
Folly
And
Wisdom
But not just those
It is also the line between
Love
And
Hate
Good
And
Evil
Time
And
Circumstance
Guilt
And
Innocence
Winning
And
Losing
WEST ANGLIA (94)
R,_W,_&_B 91
My words
Are blue
Varicose veins
Of patriotic
Coloration
Caucasian
With high high
Blood pressure
A beautiful day 94
With Daddy
And all I think of
Is death
FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE?
Core 92
Melt‑down
Ore
Felt‑down
Re‑
Dealt‑down
Bummer!
WEST BRANCH (94)
WEST COAST (92)
The algebra 92
Of a soggy
Greening brassiere
WEST END (92)
Then I had to put my face 92
Into the couch
THOUGHTS SOMEWHERE
WEST OF BOSTON (94)
Dropping children like 92
Simile ‑‑
Like smiles
IN THE NOXIOUS
WEST WIND (94)
OF
Fire 94
Breathes
Words
Sharing wind
1992 92 and 94
1994
Inevitable
Ethereality
Fire
Fire
Solid
Solidifying
Returning
Home
WESTENRA UNDEAD (93)
WESTERLY (94)
WESTERN (94)
It’s synodic in the western bay 94
And the stars
Are so close
I can imagine the
World is flat
Mom’s getting older 92
BUT WHORES AND SOME POETS DON’T KNOW
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN “WHAT THE FUCK?”
AND “FUCK THE WHAT?”
It’s August in Atlanta 94
It’s Spring in Siam
It’s May in Madrid
It’s Easter in Rome
It’s October in Malasia
It’s Christmas in Somalia
It’s January in Jamaica
It’s March in Moracco
It’s April in Formosa
It’s September in Boca Raton
It’s Winter in Brazil
It’s Autumn in Bosnia
It’s November in Vietnam
It’s February in the Big Apple
It’s June in that jazz bar on Bleeker
It’s Summer at Fenway
It’s December in Anchorage
It’s Chanuka in the Ukraine
It’s July in Greece
(It’s always the season for love)
It’s October( the) 18th at 2:03 AM (2:30)
On the lot where Nissan
Sales are killing
Oldsmobile ( I’m alone, sometimes frightened,
The watchperson here. I work for Bulldyke Security
And I’m underpaid
And alone
And underworked
And alone
And my baby never came
And there’s no toilet.
WHERE
WESTVIEW (94)
Working Outlaw Words 94
Like you or I would write poetry
if we only knew how
Disgust 93
Courses through me
Building pressure
And the only escape
I have is the written turd
A Night With Absolutely Nothing Special About It91
I sit down to write “special” poetry
WEYFARERS (94)
We buried her dad 91
In chemical waste
WAIT FOR
Foxy 94
Caught in a trap
She forgot
All about the chickens
Stinging Expansion 92
Don’t try to insert your dry
Wit
Into the arrid desert
Of my vestal verse
Your words are 93
“Merely bulk”
For your style
WHEAT (92)
Flaccid time 92
Is a delicacy
When savored
ON A
WHETSTONE (94)
Short Title 92
Shit poem (shorter)
WHETSTONE (94)
SHARPENED WITS AND CONSCIENCES
Skeleton Bank 92
RTC horror‑show
Some people 94
Need to crack
Their knuckles
Some people
Need to knuckle
Their cracks
WHISPER (94)
TO
Dear Walt, 94
So happy you’ve been learning
Getting educated
So glad you now know
That night follows where‑ever you go
A
WHISPERING PALM (93)
A Fear of Displacement 93
I misplaced it
IN THE
WHITE CLOUDS WIND VEIN (92)
AND A
WHITE EAGLE COFFEE STORE (94)
SMELLS
What a revelation! ‑‑ 94
‑‑ That lumberjacking
Is a real profession
In the sense that it
Is money for something
That is really needed,
The cleaning , pruning,
Nurturing of the land
IN
WHITE LIGHT (91)
The night lives 91
Silver glistening hell
And sharp again with
Desert sandstorm winds
Hound howl, bite
Fangs rip apart
The serpent of Isis
ON
WHITE PINE (94)
Poems are acts of acts 92
So fax me
Axe simile
So I can cut down
Your poet
Tree
WHITE (94)
WITH
WHITE ROSE (91)
IN
WHITE SANDS (94)
Yeah, “A world 94
Only we can build”
AGAINST
WHITE WALL, TIRED, OFF THE WALL (94)
Listening to the pitter‑patter 92
Of tiny
Eggs going to ground
My pen is not a speedboat 94
Trim leg with blond highlights 93
Long thigh, just out of the covers
Leg draped over the side of a bed
Disembodied
Attached to a “she”
That I will never see
BLACK
AND
WHITE, CROW ABOUT A CIRCLE OF REFLECTIONS (94)
Zygots multiply 94
But unleashed
Science searches
For purity
With its own definitions
For now
We all have mixed blood
Imagine no possession 91
Elders
‑‑ As dying comes
WHOLE NOTES (94)
WITH
Unwilled Passions? 91
Hormones in harnesses
Limbic lollypops
What’s a MASTIFF? 93
A mast if the wind is blowing?
A mass tiff when we all are angry?
A Dead mother? (Sick Mom with arthritis?)
The poem neighed in the saddle of lines 94
Ellipsis was the horse’s name
Cantering over a field
Of barley in the wind….
No,
Maybe it was a field of rye
WORDS THAT SURVIVE WITHOUT PICTURES
IMAGES THAT CAN BE VERBAL CONSTRUCTS
WICAZO (94)
I am an ant 94
Crawling over the rotten stump
Of history
Looking for flesh to sting
And for food
WICKED MYSTIC (94)
Horror is conservative 94
Gothic churches
Dripped blood for the party
Line
WIDE OPEN (91)
No Need for Love Until the Visions Start 91
Until the Hunger
Open wide
To eat this warm apple
Then you’ll know love
WIDENER (94)
IN
WILD EAST (94)
As a woman, I prefer men 94
Does that make me sexist?
Many black men have treated
Women like me like chattel
Smooth outside, seeing white
Skin under the sheets,
Slapping me with their genitals
Does that make me racist?
I’m scared that the women I lick
Will try to frighten off my men
Does that make me homophobic?
I love the moist skin of youth
Does that make me ageist?
I’d rather be upper middle class
Does that make me classist?
I sometimes am defined
By the smell of sex
Does that ban me as erotic
I love a good limerick
Sometimes I
Write certain line lengths
In controlled form
What is all that compared
To your prejudice
Which keeps you from reading me?
WILDERNESS (94)
WILDFLOWER (92)
Cheap nature pictures 91
Without film
October juniper, fleshed civil, 92
Fused to the present
In shrill fidelities,
Deciduous divisions
Wreathe the woodbine.
Cool chatter remembers
Merciless intervals
Separate growth,
Into itself.
Citizens of the Arroyos 91
Compete for fame with yo‑yo’s
yoyo ma never comes by to visit
Toyota buys up prejudice
With tight green money‑buds
WILDWOOD (93)
WILLAMETTE (94)
WONDERMENT
I DON’T WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU DON’T CARE
ABOUT ME, ABOUT LIFE, ABOUT LOVE,
THAT YOU HAVE
Described as poetry 94
In black veils before dancing
Lesbians in a banana
(bandana?)
Dusty, Gated,
Donkey,
shuttered wave,
Dog and children
Land
on the runway
of foreign inflections ?
MISGIVINGS
The used car lot 94
Is dirty.( ‑‑ kept that way.)
In
The new car lot,
People want to make love
TO GIVE TO
WILLIAM AND MARY (94)
BY
WILLOW (94)
3 lines forsaken 94
For the “good idea”
Of the following 6 lines
(Which I won’t include here)
IN
WILLOW SPRINGS (94)
WIND (94)
TALK ABOUT
A snifter of Summer 92
(But only one
At a time)
WINDFALL PROPHETS (91)
Snout snakes 91
Sniff out
A good deal
TAKING STOCK, WHILE
WINDHORSE SAMURAI (94)
Stinking verandah 92
Vowel‑song breeze
In French farts
FIGHTING
FUCK‑FUCK‑FUCK WORDS
SCREAMING
“WHO GIVES A SHIT?”
“WHO WANTS ONE?”
The river runs, 94
Dirty, clean
The river runs
Recognizable
Grey sky floats by
Some days are blankets
The only things
That are even a little different
Are the poetry pieces
Under these seasons of change
Written
In this old house
And the barn
That needs rebuilding
And the windows
That crack in the Winter
HOVER IN THE WIND OVER
WINDHOVER (94)
Don’t tell me ‑‑‑ you’re gifted! 94
So,
Don’t tell me that the bloodstain
covered your heart ‑‑ yuck,
The bile made you smile,
The urine puckered your pussy,
The mucus made you remember,
The sperm made you cut yourself.
Don’t you tell me that, if you’re gifted.
BESIDE
No Doggerel 94
No Dog Growls
Leo, the mutt, plays
Elbows on the grass
Butt up, nipping
At Wooly‑booger
The Big black chow‑dog
Who reigns now
“Come on! Play!”
But there’s too much
To do as top dog
That’s what Leo envies
A sense of purpose
WINDLESS ORCHARD (94)
I remember 92
Wolfgang the waiter
Bulging
WINDSOR (94)
Talking to the animals 94
First animation
Of the automaton
Talking to the Warthogs 94
Asking for advice
WINEBERRY (94)
A Sighting, A Gift 93
Gulls lifting land crabs to sky
All at once
Dropping them
We dive out of democracy 94
Into a pool of dictatorship
By the majority
Who say collectively,
Unconscious, “Hold
Your neighbor’s Hand
And float because
It’s a sin to swim”
WINSTON (91)
You gave your nine‑year‑old “princess” 91
A breast imprint?
WIRE (94)
Kerosene sucks 92
Madonna’s air?
Sucks wire?
Wire sucks?
CONNECTED
TO
WIRE EYE OF THE COMET (92)
Lucky 92
Anyway
Lucky
Any
Way
WISCONSIN (94)
Frying Fish 94
Flying fish
(flipped)
Which “element”
Is theirs?
WISCONSIN (94)
WISCONSIN RESTAURANTEUR (94)
LIKE
A TERRIER?
WISCONSIN (94)
Lapin Love 94
After rabbit stew
The worms come out
Attach to the stomach
And wall like calamari
In the dark acid ocean
Of a full belly
That ‘s where starvation
Begins its paradox
The more you eat
The more hollow you become
Bloated, tight, like a drum
Ready to explode release
What was I thinking
When I moved to the country
With you, hoping I’d be
Kept comfortable
In the (sainted) sated (sainted)
Warmth of your lapin love?
THE
WISE WOMAN (94)
WASHES
Why wisdom for women? 92
Why is wisdom not world wisdom,
Universal wisdom?
Why menstrual wisdom?
Why answer?
Oh, clap your pustual trap ya whining twit 94
Trying to teach your sisters
Lessons you still need to learn
“We’re the same”
“We’re different”
“We’re the same”
“We’re different”
“Tastes great”
“Looks good”
IN THE
WISHING WELL (92)
My passion is warm like the color 92
WITHOUT HALOS (94)
Don’t give us any more time 91
To excuse our self‑imposed blindness
That’s why images are poetry
We don’t see for ourselves
Discolored Discovery Discourse 93
My gosh!
There’s life outside of our fireplace!
Finding it almost extinct 91
We get worried and begin mating procedures
To save leprosy in our microscope zoo
Clearer Than 94
The moon roamed even these landscapes
Of flying haystacks
And the pond’s hot buttresses, thunder colors,
Mysterious wind of scummed peonies,
And magenta poplars.
Bleeding blossoms bloomed
Like there were clouds
And won’t stop
It is October 93
Everything is
Cool, smells of wholes,
Concrete blisters,
Ice to fill them
Soon.
(And then, of course, it’s going to twist
and turn them,
make them swell out of shape and break
through their
boundaries and have holey babies
so that soon there’ll be
more holes to fill and then
leaves will leave, it will
leave and be a different season)
Even the toilet’s scrubbed and foreign.
Someone made the water blue
Domino effect with falling towels
In Lightning colors of hauberked nakedness
Like stiff cotten
And there were flying mistresses of fur‑balls
Against the wall by the spiget
Rainier Marie 92
Still wrong, Marie‑Carol Becker ‑‑
The songs, the sonnets, the elegies,
The prose don’t translate, it’s true,
But, more still, the mood can’t be left to you,
Sitting in the Swiss Alps, breathing old air,
Breaking in hiking boots, deaf to cowbells.
Do you have Rodin, chipping away every day,
At the granite of your head, removing every part
That is not art; In circular motions with his hands
Smoothing your bust, the bust of inspiration?
Do you have a wealthy mistress, who takes you in
Like the storm‑cat? Do you sit with The Panther,
Shaking your head, stuffing another line in the dresser?
Well, even if you do, I can’t leave the mood to you,
Outside of The Castle’s grandeur,
In the fair weather of the now,
Because it was storming cats and dogs of unrememberance
Then ‑‑ Yes, back then, it was rainier, Marie.
TO
WITNESS (91)
But then she writes a poem about what she didn’t do? 91
Like telling them that “safety”, for her,
Meant that they, one of them,
Would stay?
WITWATERSRAND (94)
WOLSAK (94)
Stereotyping the Stereotypers Typing 92
They touch their genitals
Because they think of Western women,
All of us, as whores.
AND
Putting on these panties is like stepping backwards 94
The bulges
From both sides of you
The place where your pons expanded
Against silk lace filigree
Your pubes are darned into the peek‑a‑boo
Openings where moisture would once seep through
But now
My clit doesn’t fit my labia
Feel slighted in the tent
Of your protuberances
And I put you into the pile
Of delicates to be tumbled
And shrunken back into shape
But have no heat to unstretch my insides
Since you became a full‑time transvestite
And told me I cramped
Your style
BE A
WOMAN OF POWER (92)
Rhomboid 92
“Just like the one who ran
What do you do when you’re” RHOMBOID
“`Cus you know you’re” no man?
FOR
WOMEN’S EDUCATION DES FEMMES (94)
A rose is not a rose 94
If not the perfect rose
Depending on how you
Lick at it
WHO GIVES A SHIT
IF THE LINES CONNECT TO THE TITLES?
NO ONE’S LISTENING, ARE THEY?
HAS ANYONE MADE IT THIS FAR?
I MIGHT AS WELL LET THE WORDS SPEAK
FOR THEMSELVES. LET THEM THE WORK
Why Women Piss Me Off (More than Men) 92
We were supposed to be better
Make it better
Compete to change
Beyond the surface
But we didn’t
We were not better
Could not be, by those rules
Everyone knows
Men have always been better
Always been better
At being total assholes
WOMEN’S (94)
This is you, you weak little bimbette octopussy, 94
This poem you didn’t write ‑‑
“Touch me and I’ll be bad
I’ll be bad and touch me
But don’t send me any
Fuckin’ haiku!”
WOMEN’S (94)
WOMEN WISE (94)
WOODLEY (94)
Somehow the word heron 91
Poets the sentence
is it heron
Sounds or awkward beauty
They see as the symbol of the image (mage)?
Yeah, but…. 94
Could Caruso break
An ear drum
With his tin tongue?
“Could only be Caruso on the Victrola” spinning like a
upright suckling pig
WORCESTER (94)
Scrubbing the dirty bottom 92
Of the two‑headed baby
You bore and called Poetry
Already stinging it sightless with soap
Putting screams in its burbling mouths
Considering murder vicariously
You say they say “Stop, you’re killing me!”
KNOWING THE
WORD WORKS (93)
My father lit my hair on fire! 93
Fuck him
Fuck him
Fuck him! He even had the nerve
To try to tell me it was an accident!
Hah!
In and out 92
Of an
Iron curtain mood
Prop
Propaganda
Translations
Of bad translations
Where the setting
And the character names are all
That are left to play
Winter heart contracts 91
Unborn
Ungathered
Unpotato
Unto
Una
Unroaming
Unfarm
Undog
Unleave me together
Unstars
Undigestion
WORDS OF WISDOM (94)
FALLOUT
WORDSMITH (94)
Violence is easy 94
So you use it
Because you’re lazy
Fuck me with
Metal head steel tips
Tear the throat of
The entire fucking
WORLD
You call yourself
“Amused”
WORDSMITH, FORMERLY POETS OF NOW (93)
Pink is the color 93
Of my true love’s twat …..
WORDSONG (94)
Snake swallows Billy 94
Now I love snakes
I always liked the little girls the best 93
(My Man, Big and Little)
There once was a man who said nothing
And he was not there
As a shadow
But painted dots
Where his shadow should have been
The monster den 92
With monster men
We keep putting them down
They get up again
WORDWRIGHTS (91)
Life is a long Lear‑ning 91
Lesson listing names
On Gravestones
For recognition
And memory exercise
WORKING CLASSICS RED WHEELBARROW (92)
TO
CART AWAY
Shin splints 92
Warmup shoes
Trojan lubricated
WORKS (94)
WORLDWIDE (93)
IN
WoRM fEASt TAPE WoRM KNIGHTMAYOR KNIGHTMARE EROTIC OCCULT (94)
Porno spells 94
Erotic occlusion
Wacko 93
Wack‑off
WORMWOOD (94)
Wordlife 94
De‑
Fined
Con‑
Notated
Culturally
Accented
Numbered
Hierarchy
Changed by
Usage
Copy‑
Righted
The 93
Invalid
Is not
Invalid
I HOPE YOU HAVE A HOUSE TO GO HOME TO
I HOPE YOU HAVE A REASON TO BE SO PASSIVE
I HOPE YOU’RE PROTECTING SOMETHING
DON’T ROCK THE BOAT, JUST FEED US
I’LL SUCK ON WHATEVER YOU WISH
(OTHER THAN A WITCH’S TIT OR THE DEVIL’S COCK)
IF YOU INCLUDE DENTAL INSURANCE
I’M HOMESICK FOR HOMILY
HOMESICK FOR HOMONYMS
WHAT THE FUCK
AM I GOING TO TO NOW?
FORGOTTEN, UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE?
mixed metaphors can be excused 91
in the jumble of picture painting
Clarity turns to water‑color mud
And that’s the purpose
To hide the fact that
The poet really wants to expose
His beastiality
How he likes to be licked
By the family doberman
Likes the tooth danger
Mistakes avid attention
For salt‑lick love
All dogs are bi‑sexual
You saw bearded Blake 92
In airborne paradise pedantry
I saw a vision of Dryden
No, He wasn’t hibernating
He just didn’t want to be forced
To smell the unwaxed fur
Of soggy bears
Sick old 91
Simbiotic
Sucker lines
To soothe
Some
“So & so”
WRIT (94)
The freedom system 94
Is the open prison
Chaos is not a butterfly
Becoming a cocoon
Factor contractor 91
F/contr actor
F or contr act
Fourteen‑and‑a‑third (14 1/3) Half‑Poems 94
Wart physiognomy
Viral cystosis on the probascus
Mapping of mavens
To maul the mentality
To make plain topography
For the map of the mind
WRITE (93)
(FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE?)
Hey, girl hey I can’t “handle your load” girl 93
or
“Erotic” extascy “on the verge of porno” suicide
Euthanasia
is
Murder/suicide
“Stop the world , let me get off” mentality
Come on, girl, let me get on
And finger out some way to give you life.
WRITE NOW (92)
LATER
If you write a book a week 92
Isn’t it a book about
A week’s life?
Should I spend a week reading it?
THE WRITE WAY (94)
Lamentation: Limerick Lamentation 94
A writer who courts lamentation
With grief as the seed of gestation
If pumping th
My dog ma is the bitch
That torpedoed the best of my days
WRITER POET TO POET (94)
Worshipping ducks 94
The goose
Making decoy art
The Comparison
To quackery and life
Aquarius is on my parents’ walls 91
Greasy unwashed without a nail to hold it up
What a bigoted name for pastry! 92
WRITER (94)
Mallard makes green you bow? 94
What would a loon make brown you do?
WRITER’S CENTER FLYING ISLAND (94)
IS NOT A QUESTION OF BALANCE
Placid stings 94
Famous mothers
Like mine like
I wanted to be
in photos
but not in poetry
WRITER’S DIGEST (94)
Trying hard to make even famous connections 91
Are they real when so Contrived?
When, more than like truth, everything is connected?
Cynic 92
Cy‑borg‑picnic
Boring pick
Ring or pie
Go cynic go
Snicker to your candy
Bar none you’re undone
Belt one down
And die in pieces
Replaced easily
I reject such lines 94
octopus‑ink‑writer‑reach‑arms 91
snail‑slime‑lines‑teach‑feet
WRITER’S EXCHANGE (94)
You watch “God” watching us dancing at Satan’s feet? 94
You tore down trees
To write THAT!!!!!!!?????? THIS?????!!!???
WRITER’S FORUM (94)
30 million toothpicks 92
WRITER’S FORUM (LONDON)
Imagery 94
Rose Blood
Wilting Yellow crud
Green Bile
Part strong Some sperm
Some roots In fresh feces
Survive In plastic
Gay Green Piece
Zippidy 91
Do zip up
Your fly, guy
Surprise amputations 92
Surprise, surprise!
I lose 93
Letters
Along
Th
Way
B t
m
Ok .
WRITER’S GUIDELINES (94)
LIKE A WRITER NEEDS GUIDELINES
EDITORS TELL YOU WHAT THE LINE IS
YOUR CONSCIENCE TO GUIDE
WRITER’S HAVEN (91)
writer’s heaven‑‑ 91
a pyromaniac’s justice
Pyromaniac Poetry
I
Never realized
How brightly
Your lines would shine
Until
I heard them crackle
And saw them
Ablaze
In my midnight
Campfire
MINOSOTA INK
Secrets don’t swim shallow?
They like the bouyant (but not boy‑ent) deep water?
They come from a certain shallowness
And therefor detest it
WRITER’S JOURNAL (94)
Putting scientific fad and new 94
But old new discovery
Into words they call poetry
Why could God want a ranch
When his sheep roam without boundary?
God’s ranch with spurs and barbed wire
Tribal Words 91
Dancing together
On the outskirts
Of costumed frills
Hemming and hawing
About the proximity
Of petticoats
WRITER’S LIFELINE (94)
Bigotry 94
Got big
Try
I go
Bigotry
The Greatest Piece 91
Is me ‑‑
See?
(tempered with
humility)
Of course
Bigotry 94
Don’t talk
About
Big‑
Ot‑
Ry
Unless you
Know
What
An
Ot
Is.
Don’t talk to me about racism or the racist experience
You can’t possibly know what it’s like to be a racist,
Not having lived as a racist
Don’t talk to me about sexism, etc.
Don’t talk to me about homophobia ‑‑
Species: Pig of Closed‑Mindedness
noooo, you can talk about that.
You do know about that.
WRITER’S ACORN (91)
WRITER’S OWN (92)
Beauty heaped upon beauty 91
Pinkly profligate
Mulch pile with carrot peels, broccoli and beets
Hooves Speed Tail 92
In streaming thunder
Turf of scuffed hair
Chestnut thudding black
Girl’s brushed like
A young race horse
WRITER’S RENDEVOUS (93)
Here I Sit, All Broken‑Hearted 93
The editor
Wants
Only
“Garde”
or
“Apres‑Garde”
Poetry
In a sort
Of
Right
Guard
Anti‑
Perspirent
Mode
REND DESI’S LUCY
DEZ VIEW BABBA‑LOO
Theme 93
he
t(tee)‑he
hem
He me
Them
The me
Theme
WRITER’S RESCUE FAME CONTACTS (91)
One lazy ‑‑ what? 91
Humid thunder hazy
What twat
That doesn’t wait
For cyclones
Sits on TV dinners
WRITING (93)
Today 93
Is a ‑‑blank‑‑ day
Blank blank blank
Blank blank
Blank blank
WRITING (93)
WRITING FOR RUNNING DEER (94)
DEAR
OBEY! 94
Nibbles that tremble
OBEY!
Friends and loved ones
OBEY!
Toast me
Tea me
Cup me in your calloused heart‑strings
In C# Minor
DO THE HOKEY‑POKEY BUT NOT THE HOOKER POKE HER
DO THE HOKEY‑POKEY BUT NOT THE HOOK HER POKE HER
ETC.
WYOMING HUB UNIVERSAL WILLOW BEE ELF/LEPRECHAN SAINTS SAINT ELF
DEER SAINTS SAINT SLOW‑DRIVER(92)
Public servants are power mongers 92
Mostly
Prisoners
Are freedom fighters mostly
Firemen are smoke stoppers mostly
Saints are mostly
Famous?
WYRD (91)
Brazen temple 91
Garden twin
Flame‑flesh sky chalice
Golden, silver, emerald
Turquoise, indigo
Violet ruby blood umbar
(Of the moon, of the sea
Of the Earth sun)
X‑CALIBER (92)
Unified 91
Field theory
And no Baseballs hit
For a home run
Clammy 92
Clamidia clamidia
Must lamia
“Why are wires long?”
Hot probe with eye socket loop (sewing term?)
Up his philandering
Urea‑ Urethra
You’re a sick puppy DOG!
XANADU (94)
Sex, Followed By Commas and A List 94
Sex, falling and darning
Sex, direction and understanding
Sex, meditation and jogging
Sex, pets and the naming of things
Sex, slouches and shrivels
Sex, bone‑touching and X, Y without a “Z”
To see the sea
XAVIER (94)
XENOPHILIA OMEGA CAT (94)
Green World! 94
Floral revolution
Under the floral leadership
Of ruling vegetables
Stamen (sta y men?) and pistol stuff
Gun‑toting‑poets
Who don’t leave their wives
Make humans stupid and weak enough 93
And they’ll not fight for love,
Nor land, nor freedom, nor food,
Nor comfort, nor ideals, nor self,
Nor soul
XIB (94)
Jumbled Invocations 94
Describe the trace her body
Advancing recognition
The mirror of her breath
Inscribed upon woods smoke
Will to begin
With the face by her
XI QUAN (94)
Non‑non Poem 94
Light light
Carry it Carrie
Talent to lend
But buy the Butt(steak) by
The dinner din. Her
Eyes glint with “I” flint
Lights the Coleman in spite of a cold man
Because there may be someone lost in a dim son(g) jungle
Looking for a dim twinkle of hope through the trees
X‑CALIBRE (91)
IN A DIFFERENT ALPHABETICAL SCHEMA SCHEMATA SCREAM “MAMA!”
Caught in the tryst 91
Between .32 caliber
And 10 millimeters
X‑PRESS (93)
Hibibbying 93
Ing‑ing
Like crazy
Kwatch‑ing
Lymon‑ing
Pomme‑de‑terre‑ing
Incroyable‑ing
Crouton‑ing
Proven
Random set of words
8‑Tracking with hi‑fidelity
In a digital world
Living analog memories
Random condoms conning randy
handy dandy random tracking
Falling in love with fish
Humping the hitachi
Because you were so
Lonely for a good soundtrack
YANKEE (94)
Thrall pulleys 94
Plucking ultimatum
Reenter (poetic words)
River bed remembers
Discovery
After Any Particular Thing 92
Future family tree
Fucking without aim
Or aiming
Toward a future with ‑‑
‑‑ Oh, my Gosh! Imagine that!
‑‑ A future with things I never
Thought about imagining!
On other worlds, to boot!
Constructivist constructivitis 94
Waking blood
Bound clocks and crocks
Pulley‑ups , bed clothes on sun
Line, birds , mocking house cage
River of blood
In an old bed
Remembering your midnight body
Under glasses that
Shade our talents
Shed your didacticism
If you have to hide it
(FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE?)
But but but but 94
But but
Volkswagon bugs re‑issued
Don’t sound the same
YARROW (94)
YELLOW MOON (91)
Hushed angles? 91
Heavy hieroglyphics?
Haughty hammers?
Hefty waist?
Surly sundown?
Hefty waste?
Calm Autumn
Without apples dropping
On Chicken Little’s head?
YELLOW SILK (94)
erotica ‑‑ pornography metaphors 94
YESTERDAY’S MAGAZETTE (94)
Propagate 94
Late
Realization
Of helplessness
When I remind
Water pump pumpers
That it was always
Water you kept
To prime the dry walls
Creating a vacuum
Water you kept inside
That made water flow
Dry tunnels?
What’s next?
Images “in your face”
To be licked and sucked
By a universal mouth?
Prime the pump
YOUNG AMERICAN (91)
Why is children’s poetry 91
Often the type that rhymes
And why are they grown up
Into free‑form perspective,
Leaving simple meter and verse behind?
I guess,
Simplicity that’s not too trite
Is tooo hard for us to come by,
We busy adults
YOUNG AUTHOR’S (91)
YOUNG CRUSADER (94)
Why do the wee old men hide? 92
Is it something inside
They don’t want the children to see?
what sword brandished against what human??? 94
YOUNG SOLDIER (91)
The watchful personal God 91
Who only takes care
Of children is a lie
Contrived for adolescence
YOUNG VOICES (94)
YUKON (92)
Mr. Pops Barrett, the big George T. 92
Had an adolescent thing for an infamous Bonnie
Hid her and her man when they passed through town
They passed like the legend, though keep her he tried,
But passing leads to passing death brought them down
That pretty young Bonnie and her infamous Clyde
Z MISCELLANEOUS (91)
Oh! Injury! 91
What could mollusks
Mean to me?
Oh! Injury!
Insects are swatted
By the sea
Oh! Injury!
Fish taken breathless
Uneaten, rotting
Oh! Injury!
How terribly trite
Compared to the way you treated me
Oh! Injury!
ZIETGEIST (94)
What’s a Warrior in Peacetime? 92
Simple‑‑
Pascal
Zeno, Neno, Neon
All friends could be enemy
All enemies could be friend
Or they could be neon lit
Nunsense 94
You want a pearl necklace?
You want his poetry in your face
Labia get ready
Slack’s sticking out his tongue
Ready to mouth a habit
But he will get nun
ZEPHYR (94)
Heroin poets on the roof 91
Describing what’s around them
Because they can not move.
ZERO HOUR (93)
ZERO ONE DANCING PATCH (93)
Veined arms or heroin? 92
Fucking her veins???
It’s a big world of art, now 93
Commemorate your ass off!
ZOLAND (94)
ZONE 3 RAINMAKER (92)
Will 92
Science
Save us ?
Will will?
Chaos is not a butterfly
ZUZU’S PETALS (94)
Good for you, T. Dunn 94
All over again building
But of what are you speaking
Did your child get braces?
ZYMERGY (91)
Unconfirmed 91
Theories
Not fact
Chaos is not a butterfly
Butterflies live in slipstream reality
Synonymous patterns in phase
To prove our primitive notions are true
And the modern ones too
Fly chaos fly
Beat the wings of order
So everyone will know
that
Chaos is not a butterfly
REMEMBER THE DIFFERENCE ART SCIENCE REALITY LIFE
CHAOS IS NOT A BUTTERFLY
BUT YOU, WITH YOUR LEGS PARTED,
ARE MY FANTASY,
NOT ANYTHING THAT MOVES
FORGOTTEN UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE?