Nice Marmot

If the rain thinks

that this is an emergency,

can we organize it

into something like speech?

*

Never a mountain wanted

over rain;

its formlessness is a

repetition tho

of what no one is quite

sure.

*

Nothing can sleep like the

rain, whose irony is never

quite far behind.

Each drop an

erasure of what

comes before.

*

If the rain is an abstraction,

then each of its bodies

rise, perilously, in black and

breathing.

*

The rain is a door

that opens and closes

like an eyelid straining

to watch,

against sleep,

its first opening.

*

Each drop

a revelation

to the roof.

*

Driving through it:

each line passes

into then becomes

an other.

The spaces in-between

are filled with something

like rain.

*

The rain at five o’clock

is what it is. The rain

at mid-night is something

else entirely.

*

Fevered asshole, I don’t know what it is, or what it refers to (other than the literal obviously–which sounds rather uncomfortable) but it was a search term that someone used to land here, at this very blog.  My innate sense of human curiosity has me intrigued; is it a condition? a sexual practice? a band? an insult? some internet lingo that I am unaware of? (if you have any notions feel free to send them along)…regardless I hope to work this new phrase into somewhere.  It is kind of fun to say: fevered asshole, like, you know Chuck when he gets going on something you can’t stop him, he’s got a fevered asshole or something.  Or, I was out the other night and I caught the last set of this band “The Fevered Asshole” you should really seek them out.  Or, Listen Doc,  it’s like I got a fevered asshole or something, and Preparation H just ain’t cutting it any more…

Happy Easter!

from part 4 of: Return to the Island of Used Miss Americas

The fire raged for days before anyone noticed. Body by body house by house the entire town burned to ash. When old man Hutchins was burnt he left behind a map for his children to use. “There is nothing better in this world than a lucky map,” his ghost kept saying, until it too was consumed.

Finally the townspeople gathered together and raised the ghost of Napoleon Bonaparte to wage war on the fire. The poor were the first to go; their bodies stacked like sandbags to hold back the flames. Soon the townspeople became very tired of this and threw Napoleon into the fire.

I’m sorry if you came here looking for poems, but they all have been replaced by Folgers Crystals. The Management hopes to soon rectify this lapse in judgment. Please be assured that this oversight is not the result of any hostile take-over attempt by outside influences, a Northern Syndicate, or a consortium. We have it all under control. The authorities have been notified, there is no reason for you to get up from your chair to make a phone call; all the lines are dead. Soon there will be a wind at your door. Soon there will be a mob, but please be assured that we have no part in that, and that we did all we could. We promise that things will soon be back to normal. We appreciate your understanding in this difficult time, and we remind you to duck.

I ask the cat.  “Whatever I can get”, he says.

only a fragment remains…something about rock pools? I need another appendage in which I can store the various things that I will soon forget. Something in a fine Italian leather, or maybe pleather that I can keep far enough out of view so that no one will notice. How did I get here? I want to come upon a body frozen in ice, yet I want it to be like it is in the movies. The best of both worlds (someone leaves the room to crunch some numbers…they will not return for a hundred years or so, it just isn’t working out)…

***

I got a guest spot here so feel free to check it out, or feel free not to, it is no skin off my tiger. But you should at least check out Joe Brainard’s Pyjamas. Thanks To WB Keckler for the invite. (also ya’ll should really think about taking a shower…peeeyouuu, i can smell you from here). Æ

I’ve begun the radical colonization of my left foot. The right goes to the highest bidder. Afterwards I shall float from one object lesson to another way to skein a cat. Surely, applied with care this is the best method for undoing the sun, which has always been fickle. Somehow you remain unconvinced, if somehow your objects are overblown, your entails undone, then think nothing of it. I for one am not one to judge a dog and pony show. I’ve more important things to undo, like this or not I’ve begun to suspect the rain which falls mainly on the plane. The cat wants back in. You should get up and let him back in.