DECENT NIGHT OUT > My childhood bedroom is my adulthood bedroom > and on the inside I suck > on Mediterranean chicken bones > while I gather gift certificates and clip coupons > in an attempt > at a decent night > out. My meaning is oblique > and the parents ask > how often I snort coke > but it's not often, > I simply get a runny nose > when pressed > up against this sort > of circumstance. The dryer sounds an alarm > my shitted boxers are dry and the fish water drips > and he's hungry > so I over pour the brine shrimp flakes > into the bronze water > that I will change > as soon as it becomes > low tide. > > > > > PRINT MEDIA > It is sad, > this revolving nature. > The womb spat incorrectly and I am more concerned > with the continued survival > of print media > than I am > with the contents > of any bank account. > Tearing open The New York Times Book Review, > learning little, > sipping a Blue Moon and balding. > We roll thick balls toward a set of off-white pins a > nd cannot explain > precisely why. > The Book Review cuddles up with a glorious pretension. > One day > they'll let me edit that fucker > and my front lawn > will catch fire. > > > > PALE GREEN > The flies land on my podium. > The flies nibble on my elbow, also > biting other flies. > > Marvelous, you work > for the Georgia Grain and Feed Assosociation > that must cause > trembles > in your loins. > > I come > from a tired place > where the dentists purchase bathing suits > and weeds are nurtured > by the water. > > As entertainment, we argue > amongst those > sporting the syndrome. > > Here they are, > those doctors with their pale green shirts > begging for a luncheon, > getting no more > than a discarded apple. > > A man walks in the door with a dying stingray in a white bucket. > > Stingray. He says. > > Yeah. I say. > > He goes into the elevator, leaving me > to think of salt > and > breathing. > > > > THE WORST > Stop lights are the worst invention > and the worst invention persists > while a black man in a black robe > goes on > about the merits of Harold Bloom. > > Ray Bradbury says > that the internet is not real. I say > Bradbury is not > real. > > For four days the larger of my two cats > was kept in a cage > in back > of a white room for observations > and procedures labeled > "exploratory." > > "He won't eat." > > Said the highschooler > at the reception desk > while thumbing through > a crumpled issue > of Vogue. > (Reese Witherspoon knows > the best tips > for a brighter smile) > > I walked back there and she was correct. > > I walked out and it was bright > and my sun glasses had been stolen > from lost > and found. > > > > UNDESIRED ITEMS > This is a series of unintetional statements > > because when we die > we die uniquely > and it ain't very flat. > > I once picked up a slice of wood > and thought > that I could bludgeon Andy Goldsworthy > had he been > > in the room. > > (He was eating a mixed greens salad > complete with Balsamic > and an absent sense > of urgency) > > Even when the palms catch fire I sleep > with a stuffed owl > by the name > of Clymtinestra. > > In the snow I slave tightly > as a manufactuer > of undesired > items. > > Say a man works as a waiter with a split shift. > > Say his relief is late he must, of course, > wait on the arrival of his relief > but then, > upon his return > he is not granted the right > to compensate > the difference > in discarded minutes. > > I slave tightly under wood > and cannot afford > such art > of a cake. > > PRACTICE > Five minutes ago I walked into the bathroom > and looked down > into the trash to discover > an uneaten chicken tender complete > with a side > of honey mustard. > > I chewed it > while looking in the mirror > and was thankful that no Catholic guilt > or mismanaged pride > had set in. > > I was born with at least one talent > featuring a practical > usage. > > > > ANOTHERS FLAGS > Sick finally, of my contemporaries > and their pieces of paper. > > They draw pictures of themselves > and flw one anothers flags > in their forest lawns. > > Where is the petit German > with her innovative orgasms? > > Can you be German > having been born > in Iowa? > > I can see it; a fetus > dripping wet > on the wood floor > of the workshop. >