Caveat Lector
calling all able-bodied citizens
to punch me in the face
first off
let’s just say that if the fist fits
well
let’s just say
it just might do the job
for once
of rearranging my map
do not jab
crack to it
emit a smile
it’s the weft of the thing that matters
a pattern of skin and muscle and blood too
calling all caged animals
calling all nuns
as befits the occasion
this will seem fitting someday
I’m no rope-a-dope
I ain’t what you’d call fit
I can take a walloping or two
come on and make me mambo
stutter step and
maybe
just maybe
I’ll take a dive
calling all yellow-bellies
calling all cops
let’s get it straight
let’s snap to it
let’s call the whole thing off
Archimedes of Syracuse
don’t put the toilet paper roll back on
not on backwards
don’t put the
toilet paper roll
on backwards
not today
no no no way
let’s all do something the same
let’s get it right
for now
just for today
let the angels sing for us
because the toilet
paper roll is not on backwards
west is the direction
east is the way
we are not scrub brushes
we have eyelashes
we make cookies
don’t go putting that toilet paper roll
no no no
don’t go
no no no
not on backwards
no
let’s get it right
no way it’ll be today
no no no
let that toilet paper hang down
properly
yes
just like that
holy
shit
the day i saved my own life
it started out with feet. not shoes. feet. just feet. that’s all. i was walking up a steep hill, saw the feet lying there on the sidewalk, and noticed a body attached to them too. the body was lying on its stomach. the head was facing straight down, causing the nose to squash against the pavement. i then noticed an empty pair of shoes just above the head. they were set neatly side by side, as if put there on purpose, as if some thought had been put into the matter beforehand. They were just shoes, but they probably belonged to somebody, and that somebody had most likely put them there. For what reason? I hadn’t the foggiest notion. the feet were there. the sun was hot. the feet probably didn’t smell good. the body wasn’t moving. i kept walking up the hill, past the feet, past the body, and then past the shoes. it felt good to be moving. soon i forgot about the feet. they were just feet. nothing to be too concerned with. while waiting for the light to change at the intersection i stuck my hand out to swat down a pigeon that was flying a bit too close to me. i hit it a good one. knocked it down with a chopping blow that sent it flailing, instead of flying, across the street. i watched it struggle in midair, as if trying to dance while trapped inside a running blender set to puree. the pigeon kind of made a last heaving motion with its body, then it went down hard onto the sidewalk. i felt good about what i’d done. i marveled at it. i did a lot of marveling in those days. there were many things worthy of being marveled at. this was just another thing. so i went about marveling, watching that damn pigeon squirm around there, futilely flapping its grimy wings in misery. i was chewing gum at the time. i took it out of my mouth, held it in my hand a moment, and then threw it at the traffic signal. it missed. then the light changed. i crossed the street and forgot about the pigeon.
mary mary
A very large cake arrived at our work today. On the cake it said, “Congratulations Mary! Happy Retirement!” Nobody at our work is named Mary. The cake was good. It had strawberries in it, and a lot of roses drawn on it with red icing. We cut the cake into pieces and ate them out of paper cups with plastic forks. It was good. We all liked Mary’s cake very much.
Absurdist Notions Concerning The Ephemeral and Episodic Nature Of Certain Musical Leitmotifs In The Works Of Ezechay Delano Fortswearabin
Our band was called Levitated Potatoes. We recorded pencils dropping on a table. There were good times and bad times when we were in a band. There are always good and bad times. Our band played parties. People got drunk and threw things at us like chicken wings and bottles. Some people spit on us. We were not that good of a band. Music is a matter of taste. Our band is no longer a band.
Bear With Fish-Sized Penis (take one)
fame
the flags fly
at
half mast
for some dead senator
who
just so happened
to be named
Kennedy
there is probably a good reason
that I should care
about this
but
I don’t
the kind of day that people die on
partly cloudy like a crush of cauliflower scabbing the sky
it was a Friday
and hotter than Death Valley in July
a cop was at my door
giving it a good pounding
like some kind of a crazed bongo drummer
so I opened it
the cop was a heavyset woman with eyes like liver spots
she was looking for the old man who lived up on the 4th floor
he was a painter and a writer of letters
I liked him
he used a typewriter and had an affinity for striped tube socks
it seems the cop was having a hard time locating him
and thought he might be dead up there
she’d rung his bell and knocked on his door
but didn’t want to break it in
as doors are hard things to replace
I told her I hadn’t seen him for a while
but that he was always kind to me
and would sometimes let me in the building
when I was too drunk to find my keys
the cop stared at me blankly
the odor coming off of her was not pleasant
something like hydrogen sulfide with a hint of rat piss
I held my breath
it was quite an awkward moment
then she gave me a scowl like burned meatloaf
and rumbled away
I shut the door
I was alone again
I was happy
the sky continued about its business
I cracked another beer
and contemplated the migrating patterns of birds
but it was too hot for thinking
so I sat there
sweating and staring out the window
drank the beer down
while remembering the kind old man on the 4th floor
and wondered
if it were too hot of a day to die
Meatloaf (AKA the face of the moon)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
The Statue Of Liberty Pose