Time Reconsidered

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Until a few years ago, an average of ten
workers performed every one robot’s
current job — instantly bringing radical
agribusiness and archeology to teeter
on the brink of obsolescence, says Bishop
von Beater in a brand-new from M.I.T.
Pediatrics. “Hat tricks aren’t welcome
heater,” says a sign outside his office.
“Zambonis, however,” someone’s penned
below. It’s almost as though wind blow
mango smoothie Spartacus Andronicus.

• • •

Finish This

Friday, February 1, 2019

Not a huge fan of my work.
Like how it’s always irked me
that Jerry Harrison didn’t popularize
himself under the mononym
Jerrison: Or how your
forearm’s velvety skin
could be a silk purse or
a horse’s ass for all I know.
Analogies aren’t exactly my
hotsprings, if you can sniff
not only what I’m steppin’ in
but the chemical spray I’ve been
applying to try to get it off.
Or how literally a million
literallys litter the allies of US
rhetoric, near-wrecking it.
Oh, and I’ve been as unsure
when to hyphenate as you are
ready to pop the question’s
answer both for your own sake
and for the good of others.

• • •

I Sneezed On the Beat

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

I sneezed on the beat
and the beat got sicker
and eventually died
because it was from
a remote island, and
its primitive immune
system was no match
for my modern microbes.

• • •

The F-Word

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Curious definite article there;
consider: Freedom, folly, fake news.
“Fudge factory feeding
frenzy! Film at eleven,”
as my cousin Stephen
Smallman used to intone.
Television promises, but

can it deliver? You bet.
Fuck you and your raspberry sorbet,
you and your Neapolitan sherbet.

• • •


Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Woke up, got out of bed, fed the dog
to the bigger dog who lives next door
and instantly regretted it. Not that I
loved my dog, but the neighbor dog
is huge like a boat. Like Clifford! She’s
a nuisance we discuss at town meetings.

• • •

The Y

Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Just got that feeling I used to get at the Y
post-swim, a hint of chlorine scorching
my maxillary sinuses, walking a bit defeatedly
back to the locker room, and there sat
wrinkled old Father Ken, in full Imago Dei,
astride a bench, humming “Éirinn go Brách”
which technically means “Ireland forever!”
The man didn’t have feet. He’d lost them
serving as an Army chaplain back in Nam.

• • •

The Shimmerer

Monday, January 28, 2019

I feel the way light must feel
When it’s released from prism.

You only do two days, no how:
Day you go in and the day you

Come out. Here I am, though,
Near the Forsyth Park fountain

Counting each ray of sunlight
As something I mist. Misty

Memories hop like my head
Through similes literally all-all,

And I reflect upon you, Breath,
Wisp I didn’t hold: I just saw

A pic of you on the net, and tho’
You are now heavier set, still

You are a light. A sprite. A wight
Flickering through our time

Together, which was brief —
In which a point can be eternal.

Do you know what I mean about
“Time”? Like, it just keeps going.

• • •

Funniest Poet Award

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

Robert LOL

• • •



Sunday, January 20, 2019

I dreamed Jesus peeled off

My handsome face to reveal

My normal face, and he was

Pleased. And he peeled off

My normal face to unveil

My scared face—and was pleased.

And he peeled off my whole body

And was like “What’s left?

I see nothing here. Where’s

My Aaron with whom I am pleased?”

I said “Here I am,” but Jesus

Couldn’t hear me, because I didn’t

Have a voice box or what we

Doctors refer to as a “human face.”

• • •


Saturday, January 19, 2019

M. Night Shyamalan
and Daniel Day-Lewis
walk into the gloaming.

• • •