3/4/09

Odd days, my left brain
twinkling uh-oh
my right brain ignores, then gnaws, then
ignores. The obsequious
bartender, a hehehing spittled giggler,
is snortling at an obnoxious drunk’s’ shitsmear.

BLAG 2/14/09

2.

Tablets first, always, display of rack
disjointed the accused in 1600
with voting, torture always bad always
good always maybe, always maybe winning.
Craig Bond building bobsled run before Roddy,
Novaks, Bonds, Paynes, built fences,
a dime a section for trimming
grass, decades before the miracle of weed-whackers…
December in February, tablet law detoured
shamelessly, unsurprisingly called art, the beer
spill re-canvased for this poem’s
abandonment, etched like a black and white
1950s family. I was in London yesterday
not writing this poem not thinking
about tablets until I boarded the plane home.

1.

Tablets first and always, displays of the rack
used to disjoint suspected traitors in 1600
with tourist voting on torture, always bad always
good always maybe, always maybe winning. Craig
Bond building bobsled track after ice storm before Roddy,
neighbors, built fences, a dime a section for scissoring
grass, centuries before the advent of weed-whackers…
Writing December in February, breaking tablet law
by beer-spilled detours, shamelessly, unsurprisingly
called art, made a canvas for this poem’s mausoleum.
I was in London yesterday not writing this poem
not thinking about tablets until I boarded the plane home.

BLAG 2/1/09

Whoring certainly, slutting
to be precise since business
cards are exchanged, why
would I exist without your ping?

The angry white sooner
selling acres to squatters
left angry, his parting  monologue
self-justifying, mooning, morose,

forgotten before hearing. Whoring
certainly, don’t you? why would I call
you but for cha-ching or cha-ching’s
better looking cousin? Barter, badger,

bitter badger, barter. Why would I post
except you to knock back or elbow
or tap or rap laptop’s screen
or say something, anything?

090129

Pen-jinxed, a red
top on black
ink one blue
on indigo blue one
orange on orange but
no red ink.
Those center four chess squares
I hate that fucking game
it’s logic’s solution
to brutal chess idiot savants
chess’s advocates
arguing the physicality, man
v woman, bwrt. If
I was organized my pens’ heads
would match their butts.

BLAG 1/27/09

What forecast my future but old
my daughter with learner’s permit
and keys to her senescence. Bitter’s
been defeated by better sad dog movies,
better’s been defeated by bad sad dog movies.