Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
SEVERE INCOGNITO
And another thing how's
it supposed to look you
here me there a golden
throne & no one left to
ride supposed theories
like earth = round or
flat of my hand on the
hood of a car the and
the morning is glorious
all blue serge and a
belt in the back
it's about time
it supposed to look you
here me there a golden
throne & no one left to
ride supposed theories
like earth = round or
flat of my hand on the
hood of a car the and
the morning is glorious
all blue serge and a
belt in the back
it's about time
Labels: poems
3rd Place or Bust
Reader(s):Permit me to extend my belated but heartfelt thanks to all who voted for me in the 2008 Poet Laureate of the Blogosphere election. Thanks to your votes I place a respectable, if distant, 3rd place among the many nominees.
The voting ended while I was without a consistent Internet connection in Montreal, and I've been playing catch up with my blogging, work and family duties since my return.
While I'm not surprised by the results (the winner and runner up were very far ahead from the beginning), I am thrilled to have made a splash.
Rest assured that I will be providing at least a 3rd place showing's worth of poetry on this very blog for the year to come.
Thanks again!
Labels: stuff
Friday, May 09, 2008
WILL THEY ASK HIM TO ASK THEM TO HAVE HIM HAVE THEM
—Gertrude Stein
Lothario, get ye your
Affairs in order
The crying child you
Once were and am
Unscrubbing Jesus files
Kill me now
Christian singles
Know my name how
It's lying to you
Get used to it
Lothario, get ye your
Affairs in order
The crying child you
Once were and am
Unscrubbing Jesus files
Kill me now
Christian singles
Know my name how
It's lying to you
Get used to it
Labels: poems
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
8-word poem: THE TRAVELING TO MONTREAL CAN BE A HASSLE BECAUSE THE BORDER PATROL CLEARLY HATES AMERICA STORY
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
THEY ARE ACCIDENTALLY MET
Lost my masterpiece
And it wasn't even raining
Having forgotten to bring
Back a rock from Egypt
Next stop: Awakeland
So grabbing the blankets
His muscles had muscles
But where is he now?
Everybody's fucked up
Except my man
And it wasn't even raining
Having forgotten to bring
Back a rock from Egypt
Next stop: Awakeland
So grabbing the blankets
His muscles had muscles
But where is he now?
Everybody's fucked up
Except my man
Labels: poems

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