NaPoWriMo 04.29.07

#3 unused poem for my little brother's senior yearbook ad:

An Acrostic for Dick (An Acrosdick)

Running well, like a new Tahoe or an old Trans Am
In the wide asphalt rivers of mighty Texas: Richard
Can host an afternoon party or a late-night on-the-road
Hootenanny (all it takes is two folks and an iPod,)
And when it’s time to go back to school, he’s
Ready for that too; not just a brother or son or future
Dad; lots of us think of Richard as all we have.

NaPoWriMo 04.28.07

#2 unused poem for my little brother's senior yearbook ad:

A Limerick for Dick (a Limerdick)

There once was a young man named Richard
who go-carted into a ditch, or
something like that.
His mom’s heart attack
is mended by law school with honors.

NaPoWriMo 04.27.07

#1 unused poem for my little brother's senior yearbook ad:

A Haiku for Dick (A Hai-kick)

blond big-wheel rider
your brown hair changed its color
summertime swinger

NaPoWriMo 04.26.07

Something Glorious (for Rachel Vanderweit)

We are very jealous
of the rusted oil drum barbecue pit
on the stoop across the street from us.

Particularly in the summertime,
with the leaves a-quiver
with the loud, loud music,
and every window open
in Brooklyn, my roommate Lucas
and I sit in our second-floor apartment
like two hungry cats in a cartoon,
all sharp teeth and drool.

Maybe if we could hide our incisors
they’d invite us over with a wave,
but we like the way the sun flickers
off all of this big yellow ivory.

NaPoWriMo 04.25.07

Clickable Poem for Alexa Vachon

French Canadienne Cowgirls
take great photographs,
I know because
here in Brooklyn
she has photographed everybody
from Dan and Joe
to Tom and Joanie.

From New York to Ireland
she's our sexiest pair of eyes.

NaPoWriMo 04.24.07

Ann and Lindsay Alone In Their Apartment

Ann and Lindsay alone in their apartment
is such a spectacular separate universe to me,
where whisky slowly props placenta
up into tents, and the Vino crawls on its claws
toward whatever books they're reading.

It's always such a spectacle to see yourself
upside down (through the eyes of each other)
reflected in a shorter mirror.

There are places in Brooklyn
where my mind will always be;
every Saturday afternoon let's go back
there long after the fact.

NaPoWriMo 04.23.07

Probability Criticism

The principles of Probability Criticsm
as propounded by James G. McDonald
in 1954: It's horrifying: Whole people
acting like individuals: a suggested
adventure: an inimitable way to voice
the traditional American repugnance
of offical positions: it's such a backwards
sort of admiration and respect.

Dear James G. McDonald,
Thank you for your telegram.
One day, deep in a library,
long after your life,
a lovely librarian
will pass your words along to me,
and we will love you so much
for a few more minutes.

NaPoWriMo 04.22.07

Lil' Johns in Low Places

Lil' John and I were in a low place last night
literally: Sputnik (down in the Brooklyn earth)
and figuratively: I was missing someone,
and Lil' John was smiling and hiding his eyes
and protecting his reflective dentures
from the camera flashes.

But a pixie picked me up;
and as I picked my way home
through the mighty Lafayette Gardens
project, my head was clear: no eggs
or foggy notions beset me
on that particular tonight.

NaPoWriMo 04.21.07

Spring in Your Head and Mine

Spring is in our heads;
our subconsciouses are capitalizing
on all this renewal:
a good time for mothers
and for towin' the mortal line
and for waking up feeling fresh.

NaPoWriMo 04.20.07

A Cooler Box of Crayons

Cooler even than crayons
are the cultures without color:
a Christmas Tree
is both like a spaceship
and like a frog;
a crouton is a postage stamp
married to a crust of bread.

And Kerri is Brooklyn mixed
with Shafer, and Shafer is
a firehydrant, and fire hydrants
hide in the labrador night
when peacock evening is over.

NaPoWriMo 04.19.07

Lake Minnewaska

Mind the map
at Lake Minnewaska;
it may be spectacularly
incorrect, and when
you're out there
on the black flint track
with no water,
and your raisin
of a brain has shrivelled
into a quivering
worthless fist,
never will you feel
like such an adult
and such a child
at the same time.

But on into quiet
New Paltz evening,
hike is over, and
you're rapping
with the waitress
at McGillicuddy's
about the curse
of the restaurant
industry (how many
times do townie bars
play Friends in Low Places,
anyway?)

And you've
expanded back into
a person.

NaPoWriMo 04.18.06

[not by me at all but by Jamison Driskill]

My New Best Friend

I took my piece of mind
From its Petri dish
And carefully placed it
Under the microscope.

In that very moment,
As I squint my eye
And watch its
Magnificent proportions squirm,
All things blood
And bamboo
Snuck into my bedroom
And laid themselves
All about
Like dirty laundry.

My teeth returned
To my mouth,
And the dust stood up
On my shelves
And window seal,
Ready for a fight.

I grabbed my pillow,
Preparing for impact,
As the door slowly opened
And a big brown bear,
Strangely familiar,
Entered the room
And DID NOT EXPLODE.

NaPoWriMo 04.17.07

[not by me at all but by Jamison Driskill]

Tellarude

Far off from here,
People live,
And avoid Tornadoes,
And whatnot.

NaPoWriMo 04.16.07

If You Plan to Travel With It (for Alex Battles)

If you plan to throw it
to your friend on the other couch,
you might want something made of wood
like: The Spruce Goose, Howard Hughes'
great folly, or the symbol of his folly
(there were follies many)

I will follow you around America
if it's OK with you;
on so many Thursday nights it seems
you can travel the nation
without ever leaving Brooklyn.

NaPoWriMo 04.15.07

[with Daniel Nester at The Lark in Albany, NY]

Billy Joel’s Lament

Straight outta Allentown:
the meek shall doo-wop
cheek-ly to garage
and bingo, we shall snigger
about the other kinds
of pop—now the orchestra
plays his songs like
good comfort food
for your mom to snatch up
for her long recipe book.

NaPoWriMo 04.14.07

[with Daniel Nester at The Lark in Albany, NY]

For Me, Dreaming of Unicorns

Wake up!!! The horse
is just a horse except
with that shaft of hard
light shining bonily, and
for me, dreaming of unicorns
is seems our minds
are pretty much one now:
Let’s figure out a way
to make these horses go back on the farm.

NaPoWriMo 04.13.07

[with Daniel Nester at The Lark in Albany, NY]

I Always Buy 9

I always buy 9
condoms ’cause
I AM A MONSTER
’n you, you are the receiver
of my many eyes
and dicks, surprise in
your voice while
you choke while
you protest in the park
telling dirty jokes
to the kids in snugglies, tuck
me in while you’re at it.

NaPoWriMo 04.13.07

[with Daniel Nester at The Lark in Albany, NY]

The Great Armadillo Hunt

It’s more than a hunt:
the word merely percolates
constantly (and consonantly)
trudging up the road, squats
on my tongue and
makes my mouth dry.
Oh, little wee armadillo, you
are a dinosaur, you
laugh at evolution’s
little thing regarding bodies.

NaPoWriMo 04.12.06

[with Daniel Nester at The Lark in Albany, NY]

A Crown for You, You

A crown for you, you
royal bitch, my jewels
inside the Temperance
Union’s glass case, where
they keep the good stuff
reserved for our mulatto
sides: only come out
at night, the freaks
I rogered to Roger
Miller, the them to that us.

NaPoWriMo 04.11.07

[this particular poem is not by me at all but by my friend Carrie Jerrell]

Triolet for Knut the Polar Bear Cub, Whose Caretaker
Pulled Him from His Play Pool by the Neck Scruff
in front of His Adoring Fans because He Can’t Swim Yet

Knut Day, the Berlin Zoo, March 23, 2007

Don’t fret, my little Ursus maritimus—
in another year your hind paws will be rudders.
Annie Liebovitz has already called you timeless,
so don’t fret. Little star, Ursus maritimus,
enjoy you catered cod, your clean fur, still rimeless.
Soon enough you’ll seal-hunt in the Arctic’s gutters.
Don’t fret, my little Ursus maritimus.
In another year your hind paws will be rudders.