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Bear Parade #2
Touch My Omelet
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
February 11, 2018
Some of these poems I need to reread because I found them to be quite good. A free ebook, look it up.
July 25, 2024
“I close my eyes again...
she comes into my office.
She has a beautiful wooden ear.
I have heard about it.
Brush the hair from my eyes, I
have let a bowlcut get
out of hand.
Idea for Sigourney Weaver tombstone:
‘You saw my panties in Alien.’
Back on the couch, my face in
the cushions, where I see myself
handling money, cautiously—
opening each bill and smoothing it flat
in the palm of my hand.
The bills smell like sharkskin,
shake like monster celebrity boobs.
You can't leave it to me to describe your world.”
—
“I remember reading the obituaries
When Sonny Beno died and
laughing so hard I fell down on
the floor. And I remember trying
to get up—my face ached, my
stomach was cramping—so I could continue
reading this to my brother over the
telephone. But I was choking, literally,
and was so totally out of control
that it no longer had anything to do
with Sonny Bono. I could not stop
this insane laughter, so I stood
up sharply and threw a series
of jabs into the air. Real uppercuts.
I was only partially robed. It was early.
I was having coffee and oranges, I
guess it was Sunday. And now
I'm writing this on a bagel-bag,
glancing down, swerving,
looking up, glancing down again,
as I drive my newly lacquered motorcoach
up an icy mountain pass at dusk
on my way to see my therapist
who once spent 3 years in the circus with
her ‘Largest Tits in North America.’
She always cries during our sessions.
And then, every time, she wipes her eyes
and carefully states that someday
I will get it all together,
and not drift so blindly
like the seahorse with his throat slit,
leaking a dark scarf across
his moonlit coral homeland.”
she comes into my office.
She has a beautiful wooden ear.
I have heard about it.
Brush the hair from my eyes, I
have let a bowlcut get
out of hand.
Idea for Sigourney Weaver tombstone:
‘You saw my panties in Alien.’
Back on the couch, my face in
the cushions, where I see myself
handling money, cautiously—
opening each bill and smoothing it flat
in the palm of my hand.
The bills smell like sharkskin,
shake like monster celebrity boobs.
You can't leave it to me to describe your world.”
—
“I remember reading the obituaries
When Sonny Beno died and
laughing so hard I fell down on
the floor. And I remember trying
to get up—my face ached, my
stomach was cramping—so I could continue
reading this to my brother over the
telephone. But I was choking, literally,
and was so totally out of control
that it no longer had anything to do
with Sonny Bono. I could not stop
this insane laughter, so I stood
up sharply and threw a series
of jabs into the air. Real uppercuts.
I was only partially robed. It was early.
I was having coffee and oranges, I
guess it was Sunday. And now
I'm writing this on a bagel-bag,
glancing down, swerving,
looking up, glancing down again,
as I drive my newly lacquered motorcoach
up an icy mountain pass at dusk
on my way to see my therapist
who once spent 3 years in the circus with
her ‘Largest Tits in North America.’
She always cries during our sessions.
And then, every time, she wipes her eyes
and carefully states that someday
I will get it all together,
and not drift so blindly
like the seahorse with his throat slit,
leaking a dark scarf across
his moonlit coral homeland.”
October 18, 2019
exquisite, actually.
Read
July 6, 2025o último poema está metros acima do resto.
November 9, 2013
Mi parte favorita:
Idea for Sigourney Weaver tombstone:
“You saw my panties in Alien.”
Idea for Sigourney Weaver tombstone:
“You saw my panties in Alien.”
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews