As an aside, I currently have an open channel with the universe, and I am typing according to what I have been told to type. What follows is a sequence of true streaming through the void that we call pincushion paradise for the sake of otherwise stumpy bodies dangling and remaining like a sardine tin of vague proportions. You see, the fledgling act of vulnerability must counteract that longing, the intense, express yawning that we rifle out every day in fear of scrutiny and a velvet hat matrix squandered freely by baboon children (not actual baboon young, but human children highly resembling the aforementioned creatures).
Category: Poetry
Such Trivialities
Do I have an argument
as to the what nows
and the how nots?
Of course I do.
But I will not
waste your time
with such trivialities.
What we
must approach
as we double concern
for the sacred appendage:
a tenderloin inertia carriage
headed for the lightning flats.
Occur? Of Course
I stave off depression by laughing at all those small things one would normally dismiss as mundane and otherwise unfunny. A crack in the sidewalk shaped like the silhouette of Walter Mondale; a pigeon that unwittingly traces three invisible clockwise circles with its waddling; a skyscraper hiding and reappearing as cloudcover waxes and wanes. Did these phenomena actually occur? Of course they did. Was I there to observe them? Anything’s possible.
My Ego Dictates
My ego dictates that I write this right now, and I will not fight it this time. Whenever I take up arms against this curious opponent, I inevitably end up turning the gun on myself. My ego is a tricky thingРit would prefer to exist as unlabeled and free-flowing, though I must give it traits (being the human I am). My ego likes long walks on the beach (though, more accurately, my ego likes having acknowledged taking a long walk on the beach and making fun of me for being so clich̩).
Statement. I Can Say
Gorilla suits
are really no longer
a fashion statement.
I can say with confidence
that next season
will involve
more of a panda motif,
though I haven’t a clue
as to which bodily region
will be more highly favored
by designers when deciding
how best to market these new products.
Recanting Your Religion
Swig some bourbon and rate
your childhood Methodist experiences
like you never left the church
(and certainly never lost the faith).
You may find that your actions seem hollow,
but you will certainly notice
that the bourbon is especially delicious
when sarcastically recanting your religion
(best when done in moderation).
My Shirt’s Intentions
Primed for a gravy stain, my shirt just sat on my torso like it actually wanted to lose its integrity as an unsullied fashion statement. I didn’t notice at the time, but this shirt had been begging for a distinguishing feature ever since I bought it. I recall a close shave with some bleach that nearly poured into the washing machine and ruined every stitch of dark-colored clothing I had, but I was able to smack the bottle away before it could do any damage (at least to the clothes). Ever since then (and this is all in retrospect, as I had no idea of my shirt’s intentions until just a few seconds ago), I’ve felt this primal urge to drip something damning on myself when at the dinner table (or better yet, while eating a precariously-perched meal on my favorite recliner), rendering this once-generic garment wholeheartedly unique by virtue of an unprecedented stain motif.
WHARVED 