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Dog Beach

I launches me haunches

front paws, too, because—

my nose chose for sniffin

w tongue hung from jaws

 

my hurry all furry

my joy buoyed by chase

of winged thing, or stick flick

or mouse roused to race–

 

from furious curious

all fun run, I play

w beasts meets

by butts greets

at each beach all day…

(explicit)


we weren’t meant

for the Internet.

to “know” people

thousands of miles away,

to “reconnect” with people

from high school

(except at reunions)

to evaluate

–and be evaluated by—

the masses deemed

haters, fans, or followers

(what happened to the lovers?)

–f*ck even the language is mutated

bellwether terms abbreviated,

and so knelling

(you can’t unring that bell)

because we are all so inundated

(here kitty, kitty Grumpy cat)

besieged by media

point and click

like and share

& comment and emoji

(the ugliest hieroglyphic)

and

we all gtg

(right the f*ck now)

and we all know we have to gtg

(awakwhtgtg)

because it’s right there

–on fuh beebs

on Instagram

on Snapchat

on an app as yet nascent, and

is that awkward?

not for long

NFL & sure

lol

which doesn’t mean lots of love

but loads and loads of derisive braying out loud laughter

–a nervous response, in an inundated world

such shallow-ed terms

–which rhymes with hallowed , and is its opposite

damned you know

when all dams are breaking loose

–f*ck, why can’t I just order all of life online?

why isn’t there an app for that yet?

(the tech titans are falling behind)

I want to print my pizza.

I want to post my need.

I want to stare at this screen until the final screen falls

–when my system is no longer compatible with new software

–when my epitaph reads like a meme.

Fashion is ta’ (me)

I sutured

– – my future – –

sewed it up tight,

threaded the needle

to join

dark with light,

hitching w stitching

the known to

the knots,

evenly looping

I pulled coils taut–

hemmed, then

the haws, when

debating the wholes,

– – missing a model – –

so fashioned a role,

at first thread,

this worsted,

wasn’t a fit

– – so snipping

these vestments,

I tried different knit,

& basted unhast’ed

a garment from heart,

a tailored creation – –

darted with art.

I’m a Speed Racer

When you’re driving down the road

running late—with ways to go

never get behind a Prius

charge it peeps drive slow as–

–Jesus lovers are the next to shun

praying hands at 12 and 1

always stay within the limits

honking’s fine, but speeding’s sin—

its’s hell on wheels to trail a truck

obscuring view, they’re big as f*ck,

since when they dawdle, you can’t know

if traffic’s bad, or driver blows

it’s also smart to skip the lane

when license plates are not the same

as state you’re in–a revved up wreck

those lookie-loos will hamper trek

and final peeps it’s good to dodge

-are tiny, ancient, grizzled codgers

gripping hands the only sign

they pilot car—from view behind

yes, if the minutes matter most

a biker’s best to follow close

or tailgate a souped-up car

when time is short—and distance far.

The Attitude of Sun (translated from French)

I gorged on

stillness…

chug-a-lugged the opposite of what ails me

(to the dregs)

tying off on the high of a

sudden privacy binge

–itself a purge—

and so civilized

–going pagan

to wrap myself around

my unwrapped “altogether”

and dance without reflection

recalling her

–the one who’d gotten me into this

–me.

The “she”  before this made all reflection

a freak show–

–and tell…and tell…and

.hell.

dancing yet more freely as

no one watches

anyway

–and by no one, I mean

everyone watches

but him

still–

glutted, I gloat now

all but, and some bloat

–how

I revel in so much air

d

 o

  w

   n there

↵and every direction north of there↑

bound chest exploding

boom-boom

(chicas)

boom-boom

meringue

in whipped up release

minus the frenzy

–no other can hear,

C

or out do.

w presence desired or disdained

–just me.

and I’m back

waa-laa!

and just me

taa-daa!

(is enough)

misfortune a maiden

not nearly so grey,

(before dye)

after all

is said and

done-done-gone

–augering

the return to me.

 

 

come again?

He makes my

frolickles

stand on end

–sex

oozing out of his porns

. . .

my thin goes

all humpy,

and juice flushy

. . .

fickles fade,

twinkles thrill,

. . .

and the tiny male

on my inner sigh

–private shows only—

gets all tingly

and seems

–of a sudden–

a big, hairy, deal.

auto correct

the hollow in

side

thinks giving

all my

kiss must

have been

draining

No you’re

wrong

–hollow urges,

contrarily–

but resolute

I disregard,

and

valiant I’m

dispelling

demon.

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