Monday, February 16, 2009

AWP 2009: Or how I learned to love sports poetry and stop worrying about the Mayans

The Elements

Deeply I practice the closeness of hairbands.
I saw Jesus and he had a lightsaber and
I thought he was pretty so I became a
lightning bolt talking as a chicken, becoming
a villain.

We fucked in an odd structure made
of bodies, covering ourselves in
expensive lattes and intestines.

I pulled him up over my nose to
inflate his bag.

There was no smoking allowed
inside of him.


This has to go dusty if there
are two women at least there
is diarrhea a cover that
is all books the texture of
rain on window of plane.

Perhaps it is windy an ally
following sharp metal that turns
and throws around the weight of a
continent and of ink.

It was a dog we road a heavy place
distilled by what your family is carrying
you to and at what level.

Shore/Despair/Beautiful Dark

When it is effecting you, the
stars not the cross become
mechanical getting away with
a scratchy throat hooding itself
a pleasurable exhaustion
with no ending words.

It's as though they picked
up as two making little by
little not a surprise but a
craving dirt taste
needing of a throat.

to "Aryan"

The city found itself with many
others whispering "pussy pussy
pussy lettuce lettuce lettuce
pussy pussy pussy lettuce
lettuce lettuce" with all the
prophets becoming
mayors, picking up the
tasks, not giving a damn about
the environment because they
are also Koalas walking
down the street like Santa.

Somewhere in the night we
picked up whaling but found
ourselves dragging monkeys
through fire smelling like
glue looking for lampposts
to hump and rooms to jerk off in.

In terms of mammals we
chose to ride dolphins.

Biting teeth is hard to you now
saying hello in more ways
than French.


K. Silem Mohammad said...

That's exactly what it was like!

Mike Young said...

I like the first one and the last one best, I think.