probably

2008-08-07T10:19:00.000-07:00

Something miserable happened to the poems on this page.

Please visit errrprobably.wordpress.com

Trimming A Golden Goose

2008-07-09T06:37:00.001-07:00

I called your house and it rang in the yard. Hello earthquake, you answered. Hello yourself, I said. I was careful not to say too much. What's up? I said. I'm putting the dust in touch with the earth, you replied so matter of fact I almost believed you. I could tell you were on your stomach laid flat in the grass. My heart bumped. Does this mean you're gardening? I asked already slipping into my shoes.

Undoes

2008-07-09T06:23:00.000-07:00

I recalled the game
without any windows.
I hated that room
without rules, its memory
still sitting there
in the dark. The nightingale
must have turned several
somersaults in a thunderstorm
before reading this.
And all the Russian novels
with their covers missing.
Your imaginary fingers
waiting my hair.
Yes, I sent my first dirty letter
but it was missing a proper stamp.
I lick the air in your absence
anyway.

Wierd

2008-06-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

General Itching

2008-05-16T10:28:00.001-07:00

A man woke up on the wrong side of the world. No one spoke the same language, which didn’t stop anyone from speaking, but it was harder for him to buy his ticket for the train. He could take it to the end and find a quiet place to sit and read. He still had his books. And he bought a piece of fruit for the ride. Fruit could be had by pointing and it tasted sweet. All his friends had settled in their careers, which meant they were still elsewhere, and he was alone. It didn’t matter, he felt rested. He changed his money and left with a pouch over his shoulders. From the train window he could see the hills and he leaned back in his seat with one eye open.

Is Visceral Mud

2008-05-09T11:53:00.000-07:00

Weather jogs our memory.
Passive heartbreaking letters
fictionalized in strings.
On our knees.
Another digging season
for the flowerbeds.

Favors Eventually Materialize

2008-05-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

Drinking beer in artificial light.
Your strange voice softly flippant,
breaking. Eyes outward, bleak.
Enclose my hand in yours tighter.

2008-05-03T15:31:00.001-07:00

Helping Hand Ad

2008-04-06T20:08:00.000-07:00

A bum jacks off in a corner
telephone booth
comes in his hand
cursing.
Reasoning
cannot be counted on.
The woman around the public fountain
crossing the street
in a hurry
loosening her golden watch.
Sentimental
pigeons
grounded and
fearless.

Available Space

2008-04-06T20:02:00.000-07:00

Sex
between her thighs,

everything else
at her fingertips.
And he calls late
like life is his
constant party,

she answers
even in her sleep.
Empty
mutterings.

ABC

2008-03-27T15:15:00.000-07:00

Apple graveyard
on the countertop.

Flies visit.

I want to eat one,
but they're so rotten
and beautiful.

Bones and Other Things

2008-03-27T15:11:00.000-07:00

I made a ship
out of your love,
but I couldn't sail.

I created a harp
with your lips,
but I couldn't play it.

Now I have a dog
based on your looks
and it just sits in my front room
and barks.
I hope it runs away.

Lobby Love Song

2008-03-06T11:38:00.000-08:00

She moussed her hair in the shower
where the walls were peeling,
leaving little plucked clouds
around the drain.
I watched her bent over
like a sapling after the thunder.
The bathroom sink vanished,
the bed and the bedframe vanished,
the trail of clothes ran off.
Suddenly we were standing on the highest rock
over the sea as thick as concrete.
She looked light and glam,
like evening
for the next dazzling city
before she vanished.
Naked and hungry
and clouded by the sun
I grabbed my genitals
and carried myself
off.

Black-eyed Bird Calls

2008-01-28T07:01:00.000-08:00

Put me into your love
nest,
I am a fighter.

Hand Job, II

2008-01-28T06:58:00.001-08:00

I have fierce
and exotic
tastes.

Crabs Racing

2008-01-20T12:11:00.000-08:00

Your legs
are stronger and faster
than mine.
But if we go
separate ways
it don’t matter.

Flying Fish

2008-01-10T10:09:00.000-08:00

I head to the bathroom for my morning rinse and find a stranger standing in the tub. He pulls me in, letting my towel drop on the floor. He puts one slimy finger over my lips to say he’s the boss and turns the water on Hot. His body is one, large block of soap and he’s butt-naked and he doesn’t hesitate rubbing my flesh like I’m a fish that needs scaling. I should scream, but his grip is tight and wise, his expressions molded with thought I know exactly where you need to shine. His face smells like sandalwood and lime. So even though it isn't natural, I surrender my body to his long, systematic scrubbing. When he's finished I’m afraid to ask, What now? He steps out and buffs me dry. My skin seems to purr. Then he pats his feet on the bath mat and goes to stand in the empty space between the sink and toilet. My boyfriend will never allow this I think, eyeing the layers of orange muscle on his torso. He’s heavy and slippery, but I carry him to the closet and store him behind a wall of boxes. I’ll be back, I assure him. Then for several weeks our cleaning ritual continues after my boyfriend leaves for work. I start to confess the little things, the words slide right out of my mouth as if he can actually reach in and wash the creases of my brain. He raises my arm and moves over my skin in mini hurricane circles with his fingertips. I’ve learned to control my laughter, but sometimes I squirm or suddenly cry out and his cheeks blush a translucent white. Gradually he begins to shrink, his shoulders slowly rounding and smoothing out, his arms and legs losing their shape until it looks like he's balancing on chopsticks. I try to take shorter showers, but he insists, until finally he is the size of a carrot peel. His features have been washed, but his foggy eyes still stare up at me in a pleasant, OK, now you know what to do, look. I spend the entire day in the shower, lathered up to my chin. Then the water loosens him from the cracks of my fingers and he spirals towards the silver drain. I wave Goodbye. His figure folds upward gently at the drains opening and he vanishes swiftly like a favored jewel or a brass pendant of eagle’s wings.

The Whole Bite

2007-11-26T09:13:00.001-08:00

Shelley is an anorexic. But she is also the woman I love. One day she stopped eating and never started again. It was the day her mother told her the truth about her real father. Apparently, her father’s parents were unusually twisted and rich, and when they died suddenly in a house fire, all the surviving money needed to be divided between their two sons. Shelley’s father and his brother, her Uncle Stu, sat down to discuss the will. It was the middle of winter with a windchill below zero. And to their utter disbelief the will very plainly stated that in order to collect any money one brother would have to kill the other. This all happened when Shelley was just a baby and until that day she believed her father had died in a skydiving accident. Shelley grew nauseas and bloated with the truth. Her belly ached. She could not bring herself to touch another bite of cheese quiche, much less swallow the eggy lump already resting in her mouth like an impossible, swollen tongue. So the brothers had a very difficult decision to face. And sure enough, Shelley’s father was the one to suffer the blow. The two brothers, both terribly fond of each other, decided Shelley’s father should die and the majority of the death money would go to Shelley and her mother. Uncle Stu had no other family or friends, but he would keep a modest amount and go to China. Uncle Stu bought a gun and shot Shelley’s father, all according to plan. What they didn’t know at the time was that Uncle Stu would die that same night in a terrible collision with an overflowing dump truck. Shelley’s mother poured another glass of wine. But Shelley spit her soggy tongue-like bite on the dining room floor and has refused food ever since. Now I go visit her at the hospital, which I do every single day out of love. I didn’t understand at first why hearing this story turned Shelley into an anorexic. No one did, not even the eating-disorder specialist. But when Shelley finally opened her mouth and explained it very simply, I started to see her point. If her father’s death money paid for her food, it was like she was eating her own father. She was beautiful and stubborn, even in her shriveling, bony state. But her sacrifice was grave and foolish, and the doctors complained loudly. If Shelley continued to deny food, she would die by the end of the week. I sat stiffly at Shelley’s sterile bedside for hours as she flipped through daytime soap operas. And suddenly I had an idea. What if I go buy you something to eat? With my own money. Like a vanilla milkshake, I said. I thought perhaps she wasn’t listening. I was used to her tuning me out. But I saw the thought pass over her eyes, sending a stern shove to her belly. Or how about a hamburger and milkshake? Anything you like, I repeated calmly. She turned her head thoughtfully and nodded, which probably required all her strength. So I dashed out of the sliding hospital doors and drove as fast as I could to the nearest drive-thru. When I returned, Shelley was propped up in bed with hunger. You really love me dammit, she said. I’m sorry I was so awful to you all these years and never returned your phone calls and laughed right in your face when you brought me garden vegetables and asked me to the dance. I’m a fool, she said. Hush, I said. And I threw the burger in her lap and thrust the straw into the plastic slotted top before handing over the extra-large milkshake. She sucked on it dryly and swallowed. Her cheeks blushed a beautiful, full red. Someday I hope I can repay you, she said in a hiccup. Then she greedily inhaled her burger and sighed into the wrapper.

Trash

2007-11-16T07:55:00.001-08:00

She loved him because he paid her in big wads of cash. Money like that was heavy. She felt it lumping around in her purse when she walked to the bank. And since he was very old and sometimes forgot to pay her, she decided to love him regardless, no matter what. Besides, he always remembered the following week and compensated her well for his mistakes. Also, it was relatively easy. The old man didn’t require much love. He had already lived a long life full of love. Which was lucky for her because she was lazy. Who could blame her for liking cashmere sleepwear and strange, imported cheese? Expensive taste is a virtue in an overcast city. Like religion. And like an honest housewife she knew when and where to spend her money. An early lesson from her mother before she died. She wondered which part of her mother’s taut, pointed finger was living furiously inside her, jabbing her shoulder blades. Tsk Tsk, could be heard echoing in her mind like a ringing phone. She had spent her teenage years trying to tune it out, among other things. When the old man died she went to his funeral after a disappointing visit to the dentist. Her flossing efforts had not paid off. Three and a half cavities, mocking her previous three. Since she was the only whore in the funeral parlor, everyone stared. No one offered an excuse for who she was. So of course she couldn’t help but feel totally shitty. Also, it meant she shouldn’t stay long. When she passed the solid oak casket where his body lay inside she didn’t resist putting her hand on his stiff chest, petting his silky green tie. Wrinkles in his fleshy make-up made him look too old. Or perhaps it was the downer lighting or the drugs from the dentist, but it didn’t matter. That night she went home and ordered way too much sushi. When the bell rang, she answered the door wearing only her bath towel and a pair of vintage flats. She tipped the young delivery boy an extra two bucks and watched from her window as he mounted his bike and rode away against traffic. It was a Monday. On Friday she received a letter in the mail. Inside the envelope clung two yellow post-its. One from an old woman’s shaky pen: “You filthy bitch. You sucked him dry.” The other in his patient, elegant cursive: “I’m sorry for this and everything else. In the end I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing.” She tore the first post-it in half and threw it away. Then she carried his post-it to the kitchen and stuck it on the fridge beneath a magnet spelling out Happy Holidays in tiny reindeer bodies.

The Gift

2007-11-02T13:11:00.000-07:00

A butcher walks into a hospital with a large box and wants to see the doctor. Are you sick? asks the nurse. No, says the butcher. Are you in trouble? she asks. No, he says. So she goes to fetch the doctor. The doctor appears and looks very tired in his baggy slacks. Doctor, the butcher says, I have brought you a holiday ham, and he lifts the wrapped pig out of the box. Goodness, says the doctor, how thoughtful. Thank you, he adds politely, but why are you giving this to me? The butcher knew he would have to explain himself and looks away shyly, Because you saved my wife's life two weeks ago. Of course, I knew you looked familiar, says the doctor, even though it is a lie. Well, thank you, I will share it with my family. Which he does on New Year’s Eve night. And the ham is the most delicious ham the family has ever tasted. The juices run from their lips and they all help themselves to seconds and thirds. I will go tomorrow and thank the butcher again, the doctor decides. So the doctor walks into the butcher's shop and the butcher is waiting behind the counter dressed in a perfectly white apron, arms folded calmly over his belly. The shop is small, only a counter and two stools in the corner. A red tarp is pinned tastefully over the doorway that leads out back. What did the doctor expect? Bloodstains and guts? Well, if it weren’t for the sausage links hanging like fireworks over the counter, he wouldn’t know it was a butcher shop at all. It smells sweet like honey and fruit trees. Your ham was the best ham my family has ever had, thank you so much, the doctor says. You're welcome, replies the butcher, I'm glad you enjoyed it. The doctor turns to go, but asks, Where exactly did you find that pig? And the butcher is quiet before answering, I raised him myself. Ah, I see, says the doctor, like a pet? Yes, like a pet.

Air Sold Under Our Breath

2007-11-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

It's a shame we can't
ignore our better side.
Time to spare the plastic
shades. The face in the window
so busy being a face. Staring
changes nothing.

Arranged Ashes In The Ashtray

2007-10-30T11:24:00.000-07:00

Zig-zag.
Urban crickets caught in the park
outside the window
building a vehicle of dark sound.
Credit the rich soup.
Remove the ex's things
from the drawing board
for more room
to doodle.
Dip the moon in more wine
then offer it to the guest.
It was on
the table.

Head Back In The Dentist's Chair

2007-10-23T10:31:00.000-07:00

Caught wishing
you and I
were like gap teeth
that could be squeezed together
by braces.

Letter From Margaret

2007-10-22T11:07:00.000-07:00

A society of leaves have left
wetspots in animal cracker shapes
on the front stoop for
the candid pigeons. Duck
for the tiny door. This is where
the highway divides. Hang your fingers daintly
around the digital image. Put yourself
in the wind. Coloring books
in the sun. Your new tattoo
looks so beautiful
under your orange tanktop.

Wide

2007-10-22T11:02:00.000-07:00

The attic is not fully
enclosed. I can see you
spying on me.

Short Story

2007-10-22T10:30:00.000-07:00

Yogurt in the fridge
overdue. Decorative squirrel
watching the young couple
wrap themselves around a tree.
The plane being pulled out of the sky
out of love.

I go to the part of the city
that looks like a small town.
Even the cars are smaller.
And the post office is just around
every corner.
An officer is hosing off
a woman and her small dog.
The bicycle will only go as fast
as I can pedal except downhill.
Even rainy weather needs a stamp.

You called my name into a stone
and called it Character.
So what, arrest the leaves they're exploding
like gunshots and bleeding dark shades
of red and orange on the cement.

People Who Tame Animals That Can't Be Tamed

2007-10-17T11:41:00.000-07:00

The overhead light funneled
into a single drinking straw.
Rearrange the furniture
as if they were planets,
taking a seat accordingly.
Forget about cooking, besides
there aren't any pans.
No foreseeable cupboards.
The phone cooing palms up
from its cradle,
"Hello? Are you there?
My ringer is broken,
but I wanted to call
so badly."
And the mammoth in the hallway
is always in the way.
Before bed he dog-ears your pages.
In the middle of the night
he hands you a tissue,
down to the last ghostly sheet.

Serious

2007-10-16T10:08:00.001-07:00

dentists.
We drill in your mouth
and collect your sweet teeth
for hooks to hang
our smallest belongings.

True

2007-10-12T10:42:00.000-07:00

Hard-boil the egg
and halve it
so we can swallow it
in two bites.
One, to prove
there is a yolk.
Two, to get on with
the day.

Waiting For The Lights To Cross

2007-10-04T07:28:00.000-07:00

We look both ways without knowing
Within Walking Distance
is all the signs say.
The city endures months of construction
like bad television.
What we could have said
now in cement,
a lad in the tallest window,
a soggy carpet of cross-word puzzles.

Our butts have fallen asleep.
We were passport photo size
at home in the living room
and now this.
The plastic-tooth zipper
contradicts mostly the heart.

Across the street a man
pedaling his bicycle around
a toss of feathers in traffic.
His eyes saying, “They fell
and their wings are crushed,
but I could circle like this forever,”
above the nest of crying
horns and hand claps.

Countless Vertebrae

2007-09-30T18:47:00.000-07:00

The skeleton poster
over the bed
with a detached spine
gives us better posture
to examine the room:
how the avocado leaves
curl inward A-sexually,
how the childsize lamp
dazzles dust in the cracks,
how you mock sleep
with your body
rounded in the shape
of a perfect S.

The Coping Spoon

2007-09-17T14:35:00.000-07:00

We locked the drawer last November
when drifts of fresh snow froze into grudges,
falling down chimneys next door,
and turning to mud then loveseats
in someone else’s front room.

Lettering clings to the carpet.
I've brushed my hair a thousand times
and still can't get used to sugar-free jello.

Even if we confess everything in the stall
of an empty parking lot,
cars will continue to park there.

Wax Meat

2007-09-11T18:50:00.000-07:00

Naturally
we must learn
to divide our time
between believing
and leading
the dinner party.

In Lieu of Thumbs That Will Not Bend

2007-09-11T18:37:00.000-07:00

Pound harder
on the deaf door,
I am only pretending
not to hear you,
how in the glass room
the untouched rosehead
whistles
under its breath.

In The Mood For Oolong

2007-08-31T12:37:00.000-07:00

A fly's tap
at the window
reminds us
there is always
more work
to do.

Big Knocks On The Silent Floor

2007-08-31T12:30:00.000-07:00

I am not holding out.
All the snaps are coming off
the woman's blouse
and pelleting traffic.
I am in the background.
A child's breath
is a newspaper of distraction
and a microphone
for envy.
Stuff the body with more steam.
Stamps
as the new literary outlet.
It's September
and I am getting my feet wet.
What we want is
mental connection.
We call yesterday True.
Today I am in the centerfold
that cannot be reached,
floundering in the white
seams.

SpoonFork and Needle

2007-08-27T09:09:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I will remember two things
and make the other one up:

Cat asleep
on a stack of textbooks
gives us room to
look at art,
play a classical cd,
wiggle our toes.

Two Flowers Away From The Cemetery

2007-08-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

The sound of a woman's cane
beneath a closet full of white rose bushes,
a three-legged mouse
trying to charm a beetle,
an apple on the curb
with one large bite missing,
trash,

reminds me
we never met for lunch
before I left.
That postcard of the bear
holding a Goodbye sign
in his teeth.

The End Again

2007-06-23T12:31:00.000-07:00

THEYWE
NTTOTH
EEND.BUT
THEEND
WASNOT
FARENO
UGH.SO
THEYT
URNEDA
ROUND
ANDWE
NTTOTH
EENDAG
AIN.

Yours Truly,

2007-05-12T14:28:00.000-07:00

A mild voice standing out
in a crowded room.
Fan in the third-story window
ready to jump.
The future is about to change

written all over the sidewalks.
Emptiness in the ash of cigarette butts.
Something past
in the past.

Remember the night
we froze ourselves in the lake
between dinner and the party?
Your light-yellow jacket
still hanging on the nail in the hall
for everyone to see,
resembling only a part
of your shoulders.

Big

2007-04-14T12:06:00.000-07:00

It doesn't matter
if the trees are broke,
we've held onto
our solid beliefs
long enough.

Memory

2007-04-06T08:27:00.000-07:00

We measure the space
and hammer the nails
and try to hang the mirror
near the door

but the wall is crummy
and the thick cedar frame
with metal antlers
is heavy
and pulls away the nails
and some of the plaster
and we just leave it
like that
because

Daughter, You Look So Pretty

2007-04-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

Your ivory chiffon gown
has a high Victorian neckline
with a yoke of schiffli lace
set in a gathered bodice
with long bishop sleeves
of pleated chiffon.
The softly gathered skirt falls
from a natural waistline
to floor length
and extends to a chapel length train.
A border of schiffli lace
and chiffon pleating
encircles the bottom of the skirt
and train.

-found poem, pinned inside my mother's wedding dress

Something Big

2007-03-24T09:46:00.001-07:00

Mother phoned to say uncle had died, which meant I had inherited his school bus. “I didn’t know Uncle was a bus driver,” I said. “He wasn’t,” she said, “but it was one of his passions. Now look outside your front window." I did as I was told, and of course the bus was parked in the driveway. “And the keys?” I asked. “In the ignition.” As a freewheeling man I had no plans or job to speak of. So I crawled into the driving seat, which was still warm, and started off. I drove straight to Cleveland before I had to stop for gas. Outside the station I met two females who wanted to go for a ride. I agreed, thinking they would make good company, but quickly regretted it. We were on the road only a short time when I realized how disgusting they were. I tried to persuade them to exit out the back, telling them I suspected the bus was filling with toxic gas that might cause serious weight gain, but they were smarter than I thought, and started to laugh. After awhile I lost control of my arms and legs and began swerving into telephone poles. The bus held up perfectly and with great success, I left them in a ditch. I went further into the countryside until I came upon a man fishing a waterhole. I stopped to watch, but nothing was biting. “Rough waters?” I asked. “No, no bait,” he said. “Nice bus.” “Thanks. You want it?” “Sure, but what do you want in exchange?” he wondered. I didn't know for sure, but I also didn't hesitate and said,“Warmth.” “No problem my friend, follow me.” We walked through some prickly trees and came to the front door of his house. “Make yourself at home,” he said. “Thank you,” I said. Then he jogged off, climbed into the bus, and drove out of sight. I went inside and met his healthy wife and their seven young children. “Where are the fishy fish?” the wife asked. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t have any fish, in fact I don’t have anything.” “Well, sorry won’t cut it buddy. Get out there and don’t come back until you have something that will feed eight hungry mouths.” "You're absolutely right," I said, "I'll be back, I promise."

I Heard That One Before

2007-03-24T09:02:00.000-07:00

I confessed everything
to an earwig
and he ran under a crack
in the floorboards
and re-surfaced later
in the soap dish.

Deli Counter Stacked with Cold Meats

2007-03-22T11:46:00.000-07:00

Eating an i'mnotsupposetoloveyouanymore sandwich and watching a kid outside the window
kick a dead frog, which looks like a washed-out rag, and thinking maybe I should call to see
if you are home.

Confession

2007-03-21T15:17:00.000-07:00

We woke the ceramic tiger,
that is, he stretched and yawned
and licked his gigantic tooth,
which meant he was capable of anything.
So we backed further into his cave
and found our ceramic selves
and hid behind them and never returned
to each other.

Price Tag

2007-03-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

A bouquet of plastic flowers
lay perfectly outside
the apartment building
like it had been delivered
right from the store
to that spot
on the pavement.

Passing Time

2007-03-16T18:30:00.000-07:00

Build a mountain
next to the sea.
A mountain lasts.

Add warm water.
Remove unnecessary rocks,
and salt heavily.

Knead courseness into
dough caves
and dig east
for wave-effect.

Cover with cool
hand towels.
Drifts should peak.

If the mountain needs more time,
wait.
If another appointment arises,
go ahead and take it.
The forests will form
naturally.

Like A Squirrel With Pulp In His Jaws

2007-03-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

Tonight
we undress in a hurry,
race to show each other
just how much love
there is.

Well, That Depends

2007-03-14T06:10:00.000-07:00

A man driving and reading his bible
hits a small child playing hop-scotch
in the middle of the road.

The Fly Had Human Ears

2007-03-14T06:06:00.000-07:00

Dear so-and-so,
I made a big mistake,
so you know,
sorry.

Two

2007-03-13T13:34:00.000-07:00

"You forgot a comma."
"A what?"
"A comma," I say and point
at the spot on his lip.
"Oh. Thanks," he says in a reddish voice
and flicks it off somewhere
past the table we are sharing.

Morning Poem

2007-03-12T10:04:00.000-07:00

Things are not as easy
as they seem
does not apply to everything,
for example
the toaster.

Out

2007-03-09T09:57:00.000-08:00

I sent Myself to seize the day,
meaning I ordered Myself to do all the things
I didn’t want to do.
And I didn’t want to do anything.
I told Myself to complete some tasks
while I lay in bed watching a comedy on TV.
Then I left Myself a note
stuck to the refrigerator door:
Please prepare dinner and finish everything else.
I’ll scrub the floors
tomorrow. Promise.

Slip

2007-03-07T15:26:00.000-08:00

I wrote down how I was feeling
and passed it to the man
sitting next to me.
He read it and passed it
to the woman on his right.
No one else was around,
so I think she kept it.

Nature's Call

2007-03-06T14:36:00.000-08:00

A crystal ball sat on the couch cushions waiting to reveal my fortune. I had just moved to a new apartment and I was busy ripping the tape lips off several boxes. The crystal ball was there when I arrived, patient and shiny. I knew I must handle it with great care and sincerity. After some time I understood it was starting to get annoyed with me, constantly checking the clock and wondering when I would finish. I decided to set aside my teaspoon collection and began focusing on the present. The crystal ball started humming, which actually made the task seem lighter. I sat down and gave it some attention. It began to glow. This is why people keep pets I thought. When my fortune was ready a tiny slip appeared. I thanked the crystal ball because it seemed tired and sad from the procedure. You will move back to the country, was written in pencil on one side. Strange. I had never lived in the country before, but the idea filled me with joy and probably hope. I turned to consult the crystal ball, but it was already asleep. I wondered what I would do there. Then the phone rang, muffled at first, from a box in the far corner.

No I Will Not Go Down That Road With You Again

2007-03-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

Absolutely not.
It is littered with sharp things
and unkept benches.
A wetness is flowing everywhere.
A large animal with greasy hair
is stuck in the fence
and the darkness
is darker there.
Cheap whores are probably
projected on large screens
just around the corner.
But will I go to the park
with you?
Sure.
Perhaps for an ice cream cone?
Perhaps.

Look At Summer

2007-03-06T10:34:00.000-08:00

getting so serious.
The cicadas dried into their skulls
like rattles or dumptrucks;
clothes on the line calculating the speed
of growing grass,
factoring heavy rain;
and left-over soup cans turned to bells
with weathered spoon dongs,
turning to rust spots over the garage door,
which no longer opens
with the touch
of a red button.
Boxelders.

Antibacterial

2007-03-02T13:56:00.000-08:00

The dishes are stacked.
Meaning two or three
months have passed.
I avoid them
by washing each
new plate or cup immediately
after I use it.
It's getting harder
to maneuver under the faucet
because that's where
the pile is wavering.
It's keeping all my other things
very clean.

With Giant Fans Overhead or The End

2007-03-02T13:48:00.000-08:00

You've gathered all things
you can handle lightly.
Late
you travel into the endless
that is probably night
and bump into a shrub
or vertical path
or beast
or bulletin board.
Good news:
Consider this
like you consider
everything else.

So you rethink your legs
and use them wisely
it seems.

Not A Saving Grace

2007-02-28T20:35:00.000-08:00

The gunshot rang loud and clear. It hit the man at my side straight in the face. He fell dead immediately and I followed him to the pavement, diving for safety. It was a blur of blood and screaming, but I couldn’t actually make out who was screaming. I glanced around carefully, knowing the murderer must still be very close. She stood against a tree dressed in a blue spandex suit and her skin was a rich white. She looked beautiful. “What on earth?” I yelled. Her accuracy astounded me. “That was the ghost of my ex-husband,” she said. “I had to finish him off for good.” “Why was he haunting you?” I asked, still clutching the sidewalk. “He found out I was sleeping with another man.” “I see,” I said thoughtfully, and glanced at his body laid out next to mine. He looked unbelievably real. “Why was he dead to begin with?” I asked. “Because my other lover poisoned him.” “Sounds complicated.” “Yes,” she sighed. We were quiet for a minute, maybe thinking the same thoughts. I wasn’t sure if her killing spree was over. “What are you going to do now?” I asked. “Maybe kill someone else,” she said. Just as I thought. “Listen, why don’t you hand the gun over to me? I mean going around shooting ex-lovers and their ghosts is no way to deal with your problems. Besides, you will probably be found out and end up in jail. Let me take your weapon and destroy all its fire. I am a peaceful man. Go home, talk to your new lover about pleasant things, and set some positive goals for your future.” I don’t know what I was saying, but I started to feel like the hero. She liked what I said and tossed the gun in my direction. I had never held a gun before. It felt like a powerful moment in my life. Then for no reason at all, I shot her.

With Pleasure

2007-02-28T09:54:00.000-08:00

He folds his hands
while reading
the morning comics.

Call This Hope

2007-02-28T09:48:00.000-08:00

The sky has lost its relative elasticity,
meaning it sags,
and they shoot off their guns
because they have them
handy.
I thought, Glue the leaves to
the pavement that is all cracks.
Then I remembered the tree,
linked to the backyard
linked to the orange house
that still can’t get used to
the family dog.
Meaning I threw the glue away.
And went to stand
in the right place and wait.
Yes, your letter did arrive
and it looked like the clock.

Lightning

2007-02-25T15:09:00.000-08:00

One called into the darkness,
the other called
into the dark.
How they found each other
I can't be sure.

Wise Ears Ahead

2007-02-25T14:56:00.000-08:00

Our solemn hopes
have divided the heart
into gumdrops.
Or miniature horses
escaping on the free waves
of the vast farmland.
Pick up the receiver
someone is calling.
Say nothing,
but listen with your good ear.
Don't worry that your shirt
is too tight.
I hear the weather
is nice.
Revise the facts
or learn
some new ones.

First

2007-02-21T13:02:00.000-08:00

I fell asleep and dreamt I was climbing Mt. Taurus. It was hard work. When I woke up my arms and legs were still mounting a boulder in the air, but I was under the table. I was breathing hard and my vision was blurry. My date was very quiet. I realized it was hard for him to visualize what I was doing since my motions were probably jerky. I pulled myself together and sat back up in my chair. I tried to be more casual and politely asked him what he had been doing. He still looked at me nervously, almost with fear. “Finishing dinner,” he said. “Right,” I said coolly. “I must have dozed off. I was climbing Mt. Taurus,” I added, just to explain myself more. “Where’s that?” he asked, which meant he might still be interested in me. “I'm not sure,” I said. I really had no idea. Then he left the room. I figured it was over. I started to gather my things, which wasn’t much after all, when he came back with an atlas. He suggested we find the mysterious mountain together. And it turns out I was in Turkey, which was ironic because he had cooked a very dry chicken for dinner. Somehow looking at other countries was a passion we shared. We spent the rest of the date traveling around the world together. In fact we trekked across Peru for our second date, which seemed a bit serious to our friends, but I think it was rather fitting.

Shopkeeper and Customer # 26

2007-02-21T12:52:00.000-08:00

Please don't bother me. I am very busy with important matters.
Well, I would like to buy these things.
No. Nothing is for sale.
But this is a shop, everything is for sale.
Not true.
But your things are so sweet. Can I at least buy this?
This? No. I might be willing to sell that, but nothing else.
That? That's so ugly. I might actually be allergic to that.
Tough.

Friendship

2007-02-19T11:48:00.000-08:00

Depression likes to drink a lot.
I can't refuse him because he calls all the time.
No one else will go to the bar with him.
After a few drinks he can't stop
bragging about how funny and creative
he is. I never say a word.
I wait until he's unconscious,
then carry him home.

Think Positive

2007-02-19T11:41:00.000-08:00

The caterpillar chewed his way
into the mind of a dead thing
and was surprised to find
a still, beating heart.

Here's What Was Happening While You Were Sleeping Or Passed Out Cold

2007-02-16T14:23:00.000-08:00

1) soggy cornflakes
2) good-eye leaking
3) truth
4) pillaging
5) cat calls
6) fingers making amazing, yet peculiar movements
7) condensation
8) the nuclear war in everyone's mind
9) moths
10) one billion divorces
11) some genuine efforts
12)

Why didn't you wake me?
You looked so peaceful.

The Valley Of Souls

2007-02-16T12:00:00.000-08:00

There I was without knowing it. I gave a look around, but couldn't see. My glasses were cold and useless in the knitted fog. Strange things could be happening all around me. I felt alone, although I was surrounded by the weight of others. Suddenly an echo, like a voice, began to recite some exciting poetry. I stood up and climbed to the top of a hill. A mountain woman passed on her bicycle and handed me a faded newspaper. The title article read Survivor in large print, which probably meant Perpetual Heartache Ahead. The second article was titled Perpetual Heartache Ahead, which made sense. The paper wasn't dated, but I guessed it was from the future. Now all I had to do was sit on a large, flat rock and wait.

The Apple Peeler

2007-02-16T11:53:00.000-08:00

The day it rained
in large drops
we could photograph.
A cigarette
another one.
Trashcan on the banquet
dance floor.
Tall building like
smooth, white soap.
A woman walks away
wearing a shirt full
of cherry-red apples.
Close friends-
the girl and her baby
doll.
Ant
over the hill.
Natural-
the red flowers
with their backs to us.
The photograph cannot help
but change
constantly.
It will rain
again.
Starting at the core
requires
the right utensils.
One long
curve.
The caption of our eyes
below the skin.

Ever Wonder Why You Are Always Running Into People You Don't Want To See, But Never The Person You Want To See?

2007-02-15T12:42:00.000-08:00

Or Why You Could Eat Tuna Fish Avocado Sandwiches For Every Meal For The Rest Of Your Life And Never Be Dissatisfied? Find The Answers Now And Increase Your Body Temperature By Seven Degrees.

Do you like things..
a) Fair and Soft?
b) Normal and Nice?
c) Abnormal and Shitty?

If you answered a+b+c, you have no real sense of yourself.
If you answered c, fine, you deserve it.
If you answered a or b, Congratulations! you get to take
the rest of the quiz. Please see the attachment below
and fill out the additional 3,006 questions.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Be creative.

2007-02-15T10:06:00.000-08:00

I knew my answer right away.
The instructor was circling the room
looking hungry. Suddenly I was embarrassed
and drew a picture over my response.
When the instructor stopped at my table
she was sweating.
Interesting. Is that a sweet potato? she asked.
I really hope so, I said.

Please Turn On The Lights Or At Least Provide 100 Candles

2007-02-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

No one can find their way in the dark.
Or any snacks or decent clothes.
Everyone is scrambling each other's limbs
and privates and there is a very strong odor
which is starting to frighten the children
and me. Please hurry.

To-Do This Or Suffer Severely

2007-02-14T10:55:00.000-08:00

I only read sixty-seven books yesterday. The rest of the week I will force myself to stop drawing on my thighs with red and blue and orange permanent markers, I will skip all my french horn lessons, I will try to limit my cheese intact to three or seven blocks of aged colby per day, and stop obesessing over my fat feet. I will do this in order to accomplish my true goals. This is a promise to myself and my future.

Where We All Are Now and What We're Doing

2007-02-13T14:12:00.000-08:00

A small child runs in
screaming
from the cold.
Then calms down.
Then hiccups.
Then makes sounds like
a tired engine.
Then like two automobiles
crashing at full speed.
And turns around
repeatedly.
Pukes on a woman's
pink ballerina shoe.
Curses loudly.
But sings.
Stands so still.
Then leaves.
Did he ever say hello?
We don't think so.

infatuation called

2007-02-13T09:52:00.000-08:00

she wants
her pillow
back

why we call it heartache when we're puking

2007-02-12T11:21:00.000-08:00

our memory
is unpredictable

Nothing is Free

2007-02-12T10:14:00.000-08:00

I called a cab to take me home,
but it turns out I was already there.
When the cabbie arrived I paid
him with cream-filled cookies.
He let me sit in the front seat
while he ate them.

Recent Discovery

2007-02-12T09:45:00.000-08:00

A man was handing out flies in the middle of the city. They were attached to leashes of human hair. Even in the cold the man was very popular. He had a way about him. And the flies were well behaved. They flew to their new owners willingly. A long line began to form. Mostly people were concerned he would run out of flies. But I was sure he had a sufficient amount. The woman in front of me received two at once. They were making love. "Isn't life beautiful," she said, staring at the man with tears in her eyes. He said nothing, but turned to me. My fly hung gently in the air between us. I reached for it carefully, knowing it was already dead. "Thank you," I said, "thank you so much." "Sure," he said.

Baggage Claim

2007-02-11T14:08:00.000-08:00

A man was making breakfast for a set of breasts. He rarely cooks, especially when the sun is shining and is sure to give him a headache. He usually eats toast. But these were special breasts. They had stirred him from a deep sleep with a gentle song and he was pleased to have them hanging around while he cracked some eggs. He kept one eye on them and one on the stove. The breasts were full with hunger. The bright nipples were there too, resting on the kitchen table like little chins. When everything was ready he set the table and apologized about not having any orange juice or coffee or tea or napkins. The breasts seemed to blush, which was cute. Then they started talking. He realized they had been perfectly silent up until this point. When the chatter started the man could hardly understand a word. It was a language unto themselves. He started wondering why he had invited these breasts for breakfast anyway. He didn’t even know what day it was. He decided to fix himself a real drink and relax a bit. Besides, the eggs tasted like the armpits of an old sweater. When he looked in the rum cupboard he was disappointed to find only empty bottles. The breasts were still carrying on with their nonsense, so he waved a bottle in their direction to ask did-you-have-anything-to-do-with-this? Sure enough they ignored him. Since he was so unsure about how he had ended up with these breasts in the first place, now he wondered how he would get rid of them. The man hesitated a little, then decided to get some fresh air. He walked to the liquor store and bought two bottles of cheap rum. When he returned the breasts were gone, which wasn't surprising. He closed the blinds and threw the rest of breakfast away, plate and all. The breasts had licked their plate clean, so he just left it there.

Old Man Thinking During The Holidays In Front Of A Glaring TV Set

2007-02-11T13:57:00.000-08:00

But the countryside is dark.
Everyone must be at Oscar's house.
Oscar has the biggest house
for miles. I slow down near Joan's mailbox
and hope she's still home.
The kitchen windows glow.
She's probably at the stove
stirring apple cider
with cinnamon sticks.
Joan makes the best apple cider.
I go in the door without knocking.
We'll make love on the living room rug,
then head over to Oscar's house
and eat some pecan pie
with everyone else.

Don’t Ever Give Me Your Number Again

2007-02-11T13:55:00.000-08:00

I went to the doctor and told him I was feeling like crap and a little feverish. He started putting blue check marks all over his pad of paper. I took off my clothes and he looked in my ears. Thick, black hair was growing rapidly on my shoulders and back and belly. I also pinpointed the rash and swelling around my neck. Give me your tongue, he said. I can’t, I said. I have an STD, he said, and now my wife wants to leave me. Certainly she will, he said. Is that a good thing? I asked. No. How did it happen? By having unprotected sex with an infected woman who wasn't my wife several times in one night. I'm sorry doctor, but does this have anything to do with me? No. Do you know what's wrong with me? Not sure. Do I have an STD? You might. So would it explain the itching behind my ears and why I vomit in public places? Not sure. What about the peeling on my big toe, and my completely sour attitude towards everyone and everything all the time, my obsession with firm grapes, the burning sensations in my intestines, the color yellow, and also why I cry almost constantly? It might.

Basically

2007-02-11T13:16:00.000-08:00

He invited me to his apartment. Told me he wanted to introduce me to someone. The kitchen smelled foul from something foul. On the living room wall was a painting of a giant uterus. Otherwise, the room was quite bare. "I'm surprised you paint," I said. "Only when I'm inspired," he answered. "Meet my mother's uterus. Call her Jackie." "Who? You're mother or her uterus?" "Both," he said. "Now go ahead and climb inside." "Excuse me?" "I mean walk over there and stand. I'll take your picture." I felt like I should and shouldn't, but I did. I stood between the pink, narrow folds he had lined with lace. He picked up a sheet of syran wrap from the floor and twisted it around my shoulders like a shawl. "Steady," he said, and made a few adjustments on his camera. He stared through the lens for a long time. I didn't know what he wanted me to do next, so I just continued like I was.

Our Relationship Like These Blue Jeans

2007-02-11T13:03:00.000-08:00

Our favorite pair.
That fit tight.
We wear them
almost constantly.
But then we're always
taking them off.
Especially at night.

Where I'm Going

2007-02-10T13:18:00.000-08:00

To the bus station to meet a friend.
Is she arriving on a bus?
No.
Does she live close to the bus station?
Yes.
Shouldn't you meet her at her house?
No.
Did you sleep with her roommate and now he is sleeping with another girl
and doesn't want anything to do with you ever?
Yes.
Did you tell him he reminded you of your cat?
Perhaps.
Will her roommate be home?
He might be.

I Might Have Mentioned This Already

2007-02-10T12:53:00.000-08:00

I'm stuck in a romance between toast for breakfast and toast for dinner.

I was late for class again. When I arrived I rushed to a seat and started taking notes like everyone else. Soon I realized the course
was a study of my ex-boyfriend and his life. It took me by surprise. I recognized the teacher's voice and sure enough it was his
best friend. He was wearing his winter jacket and scarf like being in front of students chilled him. I started feeling warm and nauseous. I wanted to leave, but also ask a question. Probably everyone expected me to. I raised my arm. What did he eat for dinner last night? Steak. Did he prepare it himself? No.

*

2007-02-09T13:31:00.000-08:00

you know
the triangle of skin
between each finger.
it's sensitive.