Archive for the '1' Category

Crackabrick

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Consider crackabrick: Word nonexistent
until now, might make teeth tingle
to try it. Consider also slurpwhistle.
Maybe you already know this texture?

I have a burgundy fanny pack I got at a
camping goods store in Surrey in 1991.
1989, rather. Nineteen-nightly. Ninety!
“Nightly”? What an unacceptable slip.

Surrey is in England. Surely you know of it.
Surly was the man who sold me the pack.
Shirley was his name. Slurringly I spoke.
“Slurpwhistle,” I said. “Crackabrick.”

• • •
 

Namos

Monday, January 14, 2019

I renamed my children Mammon, Ursula, and Nightshade
partly because I was tired of their original names
and partly because it was well within my power to do so,
and I, being one Maleficent Lucifer Mephistopheles,
suffered no end of joshing and tittering amongst schoolyard
chums when I played sticks as a tot, so why in the name
of Jezebel X. Lovecraft should their childhood experiences
be any different? Shoot me an email sometime, Jeff.
I’m not hearing from anyone and it seems as though
my wand is officially broken now. Accomplishes nothing.

• • •
 

Life Lessens

Monday, January 14, 2019

So don’t go a-
round pushing
people’s butt

• • •
 

Deliveries

Monday, January 14, 2019

I deliver everything with a smirk.
I even delivered you, dear daughter, that way
one day in a sultry summer delivery room.

Think of how hot my June and July
had been that year. And then you, screaming
for the first time, emerged from my womb.

• • •
 

Signs

Monday, January 14, 2019

A lovelorn man stood
defeated on a corner—
a sign taped to him
said “Out of Ardor.”

Reminded me
of a centuries-old
skeleton I once noticed—
sign said “Out of Odor.”

Someone had hand-
appended, “Finally!”
followed by a smiley.
Didn’t seem funny

at the time, but now
I sort of get it.
Jokes about decay
I guess can be okay.

• • •
 

Roethke

Sunday, January 13, 2019

We used to spend weekends at Roethke’s place:
The rush of wind would rip tender leaves off
from their green twigs, chaos growing by the hour,
and fling them in confusion on the land.

It was a strange house Ted had, a stranger sky
above, in which rain hung weirdly inside clouds,
unfalling; yet how fallen we knew we felt we were
inside. How motionless we lay as night came on

and set a thousand poets on their courses—
started, once published, and once popularized,
tens of thousands of declamatory sentences
decked in gray. It all felt so inert—unnatural—

and yet it had this way of seeping into sense,
through music and through its own musculature.
Sadness, we would learn, was our horizon;
what we had hoped for had not come to pass.

• • •
 

Sometimes He Drives Her Bananas

Thursday, January 10, 2019

To the farmer’s market.
She is a banana farmer.
He is her boyfriend.

• • •
 

For More Information

Thursday, January 10, 2019

For more information
about putting plastic
on your eyeballs,
contact lenses.

• • •
 

No, Sir

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

The love of bunnies is not
the ‘root of all evil’—

• • •
 

Los Bravos

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Had a number
Of small
Jeff Blauser
Dreams last night,
Including one
In which he hit
A futile
Two-run shot
In the 8th
Inning of a
Meaningless
September game.

• • •