brazil

it was word of mouth and candy
ageing rock stars
swollen boobies
a perfect plan
so perfect it looked impossible
and yet there was us

talking about absent parents
insane relatives
and truffle oil
how damn good it smells
how damn expensive it is

one bed like a x'mas tree
five hats and a cat
dirty feet
love to spare

it was a perfect weekend
the beginning of the end
or maybe the end of the beginning
there was love and dust to spare

sneaking free sandwiches
and bottled water
just being there
knowing a long summer
and an even longer winter
were coming up

knowing that no matter what
we would always have brazil



norbert norris (New Haven, CT, 1977)

good riddance (pencil sharpener)

A good pencil sharpener
Is all I need
To put the words on paper
The words that fill my feather head right now

Metadiscourse — such a turnoff

My rattling shattered head
Besieged
Guts telling me “go!”
Brains shouting “don't!” right away

Obvious — Guts always beat brains

And I'm like:
How stupid is that?
How a poem happens?
How deep is the Marianas Trench?

Lazy, lazy, lazy — Since you ask, 36,201 ft, but it is disputed

An upright generation of vegan teetotalers
Animal rights activists
Cleavage flouting cynics
Rallying from the comfort of a smartphone screen

You among them, darling — I am really getting tired of this

A good pencil sharpener
Is all I need
To put down to paper
What happened during six months
In our beloved studio apartment

I'm done here. Done — Good-bye and good riddance

Before it all became ashes in a plastic ashtray
Before the meltdown


gordon borgan (Boston, MA, 1978)

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)

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
Herpes
Was the only thing you gave me


sabo olofsson (Boston, MA, 1986)

the day china died

The day China died
I was heartbroken
Beforehand

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)

prophecy

i dreamt last
night
of
my own
scorpion-child

he stung

like his father
before him


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

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)