CannibalPoems.1
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THE CATCH IS THAT YOU HAVE TO NOT CATCH ON FIRE. Going unprovoked is a full-time job for balled dogs but at least real women come to get off on the sympathy mixed with the antipathy of the cancelled character. He tickles them like a perfect dildo, biting the dandelions off their porcelain cheeks with his rocky mountain Jack teeth.
This is the contract I signed with every cameraman in Los Angeles for the unedited experiment in method acting secretly being seen everywhere.
Anyone can describe diarrhea but this is the year Christmas becomes Hanukkah. Lay down and die, boy. Forget the toothpick mistress, pick up a trade, stick with it. It’ll never let you down.
Sitting down
to hunt down
what is scared
before the scare itself squares
never lets you down.
This is how the pros play. Hearing the flutes past the freeways. Over-educated poets think in ways normal people don’t and never get paid. I’m glad I never learned anything except one thing. The praise you don’t write down comes out the next morning as black ear wax sent by sci-fi telegrams from the war room of a Texas pentagram led by Jeff Foxworthy.
When they’re ready to crucify you, they’ll place you on the cover of Hollywood Reporter with your arms outstretched in dance. This is a 5-part poem about what happens to people who live too long in Los Angeles.
To write a poem as long as it is good can only be done by a man of guilty conscience.
Edited dead men deny that every button on every girl’s first date dress was nothing more than a piece to outwit in chess.
To write from the mouth of hell is easy; to write what your mind sings in the bathtub is another thing entirely.
Men to whom Life is Hard do not sing Jewish hymns from past life memories even though they’re only half-breed wannabes.
Only a Nobody could chant Cherokee chants and still take his self seriously.
May every dog’s adventure be accompanied by stakes seared in hell.
Yea, I gelled my hair
but in the end
I did not care
to go anywhere.
I sat down
to hunt down
what was scared
until the sitting itself squared
until my oily computer screen
collected enough sun to reflect back a picture that was
unlike anything
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