hiatus

we are taking a short hiatus in order to unsnarl some kinks in our big, messy, busy lives
(haven't you noticed a decline in the quality of our writings in recent weeks?)
we will resume with day-counting, when we feel ready, as if nothing had happened
this is okay because we make the rules
check back soon!!!!

soy nugget limerick

more paltry than poultry, without that bloodshot gloss--
yet they taste like chicken, and i'm at a loss.
vegans against carnivo-normativity!
(ok, ate pizza monday. whatever, was free)
...but oh, these are so good slathered in bbq sauce.

Body Movin'

When Mix Master Mike asked to borrow my bike
I said, "Thanks but no thanks, sir.
You see, I need it to travel on dirt and on gravel.
But I sure do admire your musical endeavors."

CIA scramble

in front of three marlene dumas squelettes, a kindergartener
tramples her fluffy stuffed reindeer. the top of her head
only reaches the shortest corpse's pelvis, where it clutches
a muskrat, ominous. mid-hopscotch, she looks me
in the eye and says, "if i kept walking, i would crash
straight into the ocean." you'll crash either way, i want
to tell her, then realize i am crippled and old.

Normative Naivety

The Marxist feminist worked
the night shift at the
televangelist's hotline
answering the prayers
of homely heroines
and freebasing bullies.

why m. carries a nail file in her purse

once i was flying
i was flying in a plane eating yogurt
it was early
it was thursday
i was flying in a plane eating yogurt
it got on my pants
i was on a plane
yogurt splat all over my pants

her voice is as pretty as annie druyan's
my friends are rolling in a rocket ship
the sky is a crepuscular prepubescent and the city's so happy
it hiccups

Oh No!

Let's just pretend
I am posting from another time zone.
Or better yet, another time.
It is simply miraculous
that I found a computer
in the dark ages,
isn't it?

I sure think so.

easy spirits

i want to be okay with imminent death
the way the old ladies in the gallery are,
touching their tiny pearls,
taking their time

a quincunx of fluffy-headed prunellas
squinting, bewildered: "A NEW WORLD ORDER?"

Personhood

Expel your niece
with the Canadian geese
into the dark blue
bruised night sky.

She'll be back next year
with earrings in her ears
and a penchant for pop
and pizza.

imaginary horse

this happened today in an instant:
i was no longer in a classroom
i was before an enormous wild creature
a horse with red lashes and a margarine-slick mane

in my life i haven't wanted a human
the way i wanted to reach for this imaginary horse
i didn't want to ride her, dig my boots into her flanks
i just wanted to be with the horse
against hills pullulating with daffodils,
far from conjecture or nomenclature

Redemption

A speckled putter strutting in plaid pants
A gruesomely lit, newly renovated lair
A pasty porcelain jar of glue
A Grecian vase, satirical but true.
A withdrawal and a referral
A epidural and a weak birch branch
A bloodlusting film star
A ballbusting speedskater
Two French ties and a postcard
from the rake on the edge of your backyard.

And soon you will see what it means for these things to be here in your eyes
underneath the vainly lightened eyebrows and fussed muss. I promise.

haikus from guest poets (originally because we thought jeremy was drunk on a floor somewhere in new york) (he was. but now it is my day anyway)

shoulda woulda coulda put a ring on it sara holt
i ask, you say no
you think you can find better
oh silly boy, boo.

that was dick, guy alecia eberhardt
dust-covered dryer.
panty-toucher: i'm short, and
you get mildewed clothes.

this one's about swing dancing and learning that i will probably always have to take the lead for the rest of my life james clayton
we left, right, rock step
lauren guides my hands; we blush
at my stirring feet.

fat: it's not just for britney anymore Thalia Bardell
Simpson weight battle
high waist awkward pleat pants
YOU LOSE Mr. Romo

Haiku for the Forgetful Kallie Tiffault
Sir King, you dumb bitch
It’s almost day 60, bro!
I hope it’s worth it.

All I can do is write a haiku

classic snl
in a poncho oh yeah man
oops this is real bad



(SORRY)

list of implements we used to pop the cork

corkscrew, salvaged half of halved corkscrew, butter knife, 4.5mm Susan Bates knitting needle in metallic purple, tooth, nail, alecia's orange Fiskars (now wine-stained), force of will

Comradery

Remember when I became a pigeon,
tucking my neck into my shoulders to keep warm?
It only lasted for a minute or two, just until I was
brought back by the gentle, unwelcome tap
of the landing excrement of my
soon-to-be former cospecies.
Cannibalism has never been so appealing.

25 across (2 wds): Jungian key phrase, of social psych.

this morning, i finished my first new york times crossword puzzle

it was yesterday's, and the word tripping me up was "goner"

someone once told me of a study that drew the following conclusion:
crossword puzzles are always completed more quickly,
and with greater facility, the day after they first appear in print

they think it's because the knowledge is out in the universe,
circulating

skating the brain links of populations
like a school of hyperactive sea monkeys in thick round spectacles

Sayonara, Sucker

With an undead deadbeat dad,
oh so much less than the hegemonic man,
and a boyfriend who knits, it's no wonder
you lost it working as a mediocre mixologist
(who gives great lip service)
and were told to call it quits.

three limericks from modern british novel

bowtie
today's is the rich red of cabernet wine
dotted with dollops of salt strained from brine
furled and furrowed, each ruffle
like a viennese truffle
and tied tight enough to halt passage of time

understanding calvinism
"humans are cruel by nature," says the girl over there,
setting her jaw against the pastoral air.
the tin-pail plash at tess's milking station
echoes the melancholy of predestination:
no room on god's ark for you, angel clare.

guy in green, nodding off
cocooned in your hoodie, its strings hanging loose
so the hood is scrunched up like the nose of a moose,
emitting almost inaudible snores
while we blather on about droite de seigneurs--
good luck with your thesis, my sleeping papoose

Droite de Seigneur

Social realities
landed on a large part of England.
Lord of the manor, English fiction,
abused his or her hands,
which can be taken away.
Well beyond rural England,
house of simplicities,
her family--absolutely intoxicating, distinguished--dealt with it.
Be she repulsed, trapped, marked, it happened.
Check your references.



This poem is made up of some sentence fragments that my professor said in class one day.