Monthly Archives: November 2015

No More Surplusage

“Use the right word, not its second cousin… Eschew surplusage.”

–Mark Twain

Twenty One Hacks

Suppose all our intelligence,
art, wit and wisdom
is the sum of twenty one

deep brain hacks
nature cobbled together
to pass on our genes.

What happens
when we discover
the twenty one hacks?

Nature says,
are you feeling lucky today?

Drone Song

A drone circles above an Afghan village,
a bird of prey with hydrogen eyes,
it’s wire tongue tasting the air.

A village woman orgasms in her bed
over a slow fire lover. Discoveries like
the tendrils of pea vines encircle her.

The hydrogen eye clicks on.
The wire tongue flicks.
The morning cannot catch its breath.

Handmade Book

Assembling a poem letter by letter in lead type to print on handmade paper is an act of sexual reproduction. Each letter comes from a worn wooden tray,a snippet of the tribe’s DNA code, facile in the hand, expectant.

Words reassemble themselves, replicating their ancient legacy,
ready to construct a new being. The hive mind provides the creative spark. Old stories recombine, sprout new green feathers and take wing.

You can feel the deep joy of nature in it. A happy parent now steps aside knowing the power and the limits of his role.

 

The Lousy Bums Prayer

Our father who art in New Haven
Hollering down the drain.
Those crummy bums
Over in Hoboken,
You know the ones,
Those turds massive as a heart attack,

You tell me when
I can knock their heads,
Pay my respects
The old fashioned way.
You tell me father–
I’m waiting over here.
You just say the word.

Your obedient servant,
You know the rest…
I don’t have to say it.
You’re the tits with me.
Always have been.