POEM 055/100

July 17, 2013

Sun-toasted ladies on the bus
their Spanish words spill like a bag of marbles
clatter towards me down the aisle


POEM 054/100

June 19, 2013

Banker blue button-down shirt

dark continents of sweat mapped out on his back

and the stench of fried onions drips in the air

 

 


POEM 053/100

May 30, 2013

The rotating rubber handrail

of the subway station escalator

squeals

like the bare steel brakes of an incoming train

or a pig having a really bad day


POEM 052/100

May 29, 2013

A reoccurring theme

in a lot of my dreams

is being part of a team

tasked with useless, doomed projects

 

Such as the labyrinth of mirror encrusted drain-pipes

we installed and tore out, ad nauseum, all night long

— a slow submersion into the depths of a glided futility

 

What I need to know is:

Are these dreams about my job

or my art?


POEM 051/100

May 27, 2013

In the dream that shocked me awake

Betty White gave me a blow job

A really good blow job

And insisted I call her “Estelle”


POEM 050/100

May 15, 2013

The father and daughter beside me on the train

speak in sign language

at full volume

 

Their karate chop hands

and over expressive mime mouths

make me anxious

 

I want to ask them

politely, of course,

with sensitivity, no doubt,

to please

 

Keep it the fuck down

 

People

are trying to read

 

 

 


POEM 049/100

May 9, 2013

The bicycle courier

stood facing the elevator door, agressively

smelling of under-cooked beef shawarma


POEM 048/100

May 1, 2013

The doctor’s expression

upon informing me my testicles are not riddled with cancer

betrays a sensation of intense relief

 

such as one might wear

after a particularly violent series of bowel movements

 

I suppose that I myself

should feel such a keen release of tension


POEM 047/100

April 19, 2013

How many things

good things

amazing things

outrageous, irresponsible, silly things

 

Things that save lives

that bring hope

that make other things a tiny bit better

if only for a few

 

Things that smile

things that dance

 

Even slithering, insidious, selfish things

 

How many things

could you do with £11 million?

Other than simply shoving it in a hole


POEM 044/100

February 4, 2013

Meanwhile in Canada—

The penny

dropped


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