way to go

a Bangkok
columnist reported
that a hippopotamus
had killed
a circus dwarf
when he
bounced sideways
and was swallowed
by the yawning hippo
waiting to appear
in the next act

more than
1000
spectators
applauded wildly
until they realized
it was a tragic mistake

the real thing

I will never understand
these photographs
people take
of themselves
in front of mirrors

some shirtless
boasting
gratuitous muscle

others raging
thongs
and tanned cleavage

while still others
simply stare
and smile
like old
fashioned
narcissists

in their bedrooms
surrounded by
American flags
sports memorabilia
or posters of other
half nudes

in their living rooms
over beer pong
tables
battle shots
under banners
celebrating
pass out for Passover

and still others
smile on
obliviously
in their
bathrooms
where they have
forgotten to
close the lid over
the calamitous turd
half  floating
half pasted to porcelain

any way you look at it
we’ve become
obsessed with self-image
and its projection
on others

and I am ashamed
to admit
that I too
have photographed
myself attempting
author photos
where I’m
staring
off
into space
the bags
under my eyes
visible
without
a microscope

so I suppose
it’s hypocritical
to call
them
out
all of those
who have
posed
for such photos

but fuck it

nobody gives
a shit
about your abs
your tattoos
your tramp stamps
or your
pretty smiles
find something
else to do
than photograph
your tits
your DSL’s
puckered
like a fucking fish
and do something
with your lives
and stop
making me
write these
goddamned poems
where I’m forced
to call you out
on all your
inadequacies

so give me the real thing
and stop boring me
with your peep show

it’ll save us all
a lot of time
trouble
and imagination

the sea breaks

don’t tell me of your metaphors.  the most beautiful stars of the earth.  bring me to my knees

proclaiming with devotion
            push down hard

                                    I am alive with you.

have a nice day


george carlin had this bit
about having a nice day
that whenever he
purchased something
the cashier would always
say have a nice day
and he thought
what if I don’t want
to have a nice day
what if I want to have
a really shitty day

it was that forced
appreciation
of the day
the insinuation
that good
things were ahead

well, after years in service
have a nice day
is still
the most commonly
used phrase
for departure

what I can’t stand
is the falseness
about it
because in all sincerity
I couldn’t give two shits
if you have a nice day
and in all likelihood
you feel the same

and the other day
handing out
a beverage
through the drive-thru
window the words
left my mouth
and I could feel them
slugging over my lips

but it was the reception
of these words
that was most disturbing
by an older Mennonite
woman wearing a bonnet
button down and long skirt

taking her drink
saying
well I already
had a good day
because I saw you

and I could feel
the sincerity
in her kindness
and it was nauseating

give me shit on my shoes
a thunderstorm
a rash
anything

but don’t ever
give me
such kindness

because
it will never
be returned

fresh meat

I ordered a pound of honey ham
and half pound baby swiss
sliced wafer thin

and the woman looked at me
like I’d asked her
for a kidney

but she hunkered down
stripping the meat
on the machine
grunting
over each piece

some people
have it really hard
while others just
make it really hard

I thanked her
for the meat
and went on
to the bakery

the stench of kisses

my mother’s breath
always stank
of coffee and lipstick
and when she’d kiss me
goodbye
I quarreled with feelings
of affection and disgust
as I wondered why
she didn’t smell
more delicate
like I had imagined
the breath
of television mothers

she would sit at the kitchen
table blow drying her
long blond hair
watching
The Today Show
while my father
stood in the garage
smoking and drinking
chewing over the noose
regardless of temperature

and I wonder about parenthood
and I wonder about love

as I sit here at the kitchen table
drinking coffee and doing
a fat tap dance along
the keyboard
as she is in the other room
studying and talking to the animals

and I wonder about parenthood
and I wonder about love

and I wonder about the dance
and the animals the stench
of kisses of the other room
of the untold thoughts
of all shades of lipstick
come and gone
about the grand countdown
about the night owl
and the lark
about the undammed creeks
about the dammed
about biscuits and gravy
about vitamins
vitality
thanksgiving turkey
flashing lights
fire extinguishers
clear clean water
the bottom of the well
about Milton
about Hemingway
about Williams
about Stein
Burroughs
and Brautigan
forgotten
found
and reclaimed

and I wonder about parenthood
and I wonder about love

and I wonder about
the broken freezers
the broken flowers
the cold toes
the toasters
the television shows
the summer moon
the daily mail
the catatonic
and the schizophrenic
the princess and the toad

and I wonder about parenthood
and I wonder about love

I can’t tell you
anything
nothing that will
get you closer to god
or the railroad tracks
or the nursery rhymes
long since replaced
by limericks

my mother’s breath
always stank
of coffee and lipstick
and when she’d kiss me
goodbye
I quarreled with feelings
of affection and disgust

but the dogs will go on
barking and the gods
will go on quietly
judging
and what else
matters under the sun

hound dog

            for CA Conrad with respect and admiration

like another asshole
in a collage of assholes
I emailed him
a letter telling him
what a wonderful poet
I considered him
and thanked him
for his contribution
to poetry

even though I hated
when writers
did this
this puckering
this ball licking
pretentious approbation

but then
like another asshole
in a collage of assholes

I pasted the first
section of my
most recent project
into the body
of the email
thinking maybe
he would relate
and we would
start a correspondence

even though
I have
never corresponded
with anyone
neither pen pal
poet
nor the pope
and consider myself
too lazy to do so
successfully
and why shouldn’t
he relate
because the style
and tone
and perhaps
contextual value
were ripped
right from
his own fingertips
in the most
unoriginal way

even so I waited
and I waited
and he never
responded

and for that
in all
sincerity
I thank him

I thank him
because
I probably
wouldn’t have
responded either

and instead
hit the
delete button

while eating fried
peanut butter
and listening
to Heartbreak Hotel

like another asshole
in a collage of assholes