August 24, 2016

more riddles

why did the maiden fuck the young priest?
because he seemed like a nice, decent man

why did they do it in the sacristy?
because it was readily available

why did the novice sucked the mother superior's pussy?
because she was told to do it, or else

why did she then go back to her cell and sucked another novice's pussy?
because she kinda liked her

why did the rural priest fucked the farmer's wife?
because they are a couple, have been it for 15 years now, and actually the farmer's son is his

why did the young prostitute fuck the old priest?
because she got paid in cash

what did john bellow said to his son the day he died?
enjoy your life, work hard and eat well because one day it could all be taken away from you

ava grünberg (New York, NY, 1971)

August 23, 2016

the only thing you gave me

Medical records, missed appointments
Your number again and again
In my now defunct caller ID
A nightmare in broad daylight

I wanted art and parties
Maybe a little adventure and some wilderness
I got shopping malls and midnight madness
Winter sales instead

As I walked away you sported
Your wounded beast crouch, it was fantastic
Typing frantic fragile emoticons
At the speed of snail

A very slow snail
A beastly crouch
The clumsy typing
The holy frontier of your visible panty line

T'was pretty basic stuff: bouncy castle, shoulder x-ray
My right arm on a sling
Almost ready for the next fling
Could have been madness or just the brink

Alas, a sad end for a sad era
And when I think about it
At the end of the day
Was the only thing you gave me

sabo olofsson (Boston, MA, 1986)

July 28, 2016

the day china died

The day China died
I was heartbroken

My mother identified the body
Her last performance
I waited outside

The day China died
Two cities cried
Across the widest river

We said so long
And never saw nor spoke again
The day China died

j. j. straczulinsky (Burlington, VT, 1978)

November 23, 2014


i dreamt last
my own

he stung

like his father
before him

elizabeth m.k. neilson (Branson, MO, 1986)

November 21, 2014

food stamps

This is us going to church
In our black Mercedes Benz Kompressor
The beautiful, elegant C230 Sports Coupe

We're not here to pray
Nor attending the service
We're just here for the food stamps

On the basement of that awful church
We become officially poor
The subject of scorn

This wasn’t supposed to happen
To people like us
Yet we do the paperwork and stand in line

This wasn’t supposed to happen
To white, educated, affluent people like us
Yet here we are, scraping the bottom of the barrel

We get the weird looks
The pitiful gazes
And passive aggresive stares

How come you crawl out of that car
The black, beautiful Mercedes Benz Kompressor C230 Sports Coupe
And dive into this hole, they ask

For the food
It's all about the food
We all need it, don't we?

They tell you to sell the car
They tell you you don't fit in their statistics
They tell you so many things

So we get about our business with whatever dignity we've got left
Feel the scorn from the comfort of the soft beige leather seats
Driving back home

And we hold on to it
Because that Mercedes
Is the one reliable trustworthy thing in our lives

Thank you for your hard-earned wisdom
But we don't need anybody's pity
We're just here for the food stamps

emily thompson (New York, NY, 1990)

November 13, 2014

not complaining, just saying

for Tracy

i'm not complaining, just saying
you were the worst girlfriend in the world
a pro at making me miserable, a magician
giving me all that shit and passing it as gold

you lied
you cheated
borrowed money and never returned it
but worst of all: you finished breaking bad without me

i'm not complaining, just saying
you were uncool with my friends
distant and cold to my family
so full of yourself

i never asked you for rent money or anything
when you were in between jobs
i walked your dog alone in winter
you were always so tired

lest we forget
the visible panty line
the i'm-not-wearin'-a-bra confidence
always ready to flirt with strangers

i'm not complaining, just saying
because, jesus, this was happening
on all occasions
once at my very own birthday party for fuck's sake

but i'm not complaining, just saying
you were the worst girlfriend ever
a pro at making me miserable
a really really bad, screwed-up person

they should have awards for people like you

greg boghossian (Ann Arbor, MI, 1981)