mmdlxxxvii

Did I Miss Hearing You?

“I don’t remember seeding

you.”  Clearly, I said that.

“Grow open my mouth //

that I may speak as I speak”

...(Brandon Shimoda)... “a

sea forms,” he continues.

The clicking also continues

outside my bedroom win-

dow.  Does that mean that I

am to be continued?  (Sound-

ly, resoundingly.)  Now I

hear cars whizzing down

the main street of my

youth, which is High-

way 22 in Northwest

Arkansas.  The whizzing,

however, is actually just

waves finding their var-

ious ways ashore.  (Whew!)

mmdlxxxvi

WHOOPS!

mmdlxxxv

A Bar of Soap

“I would like a bar of soap,

please,” I say to the lady.

The lady looks at me as if

she recognizes me.  In

my dream the photo of

Curtis didn’t do him

justice.  Awake, it’s

amazing the differ-

ences between life

and death; between

life and life.  To

think.  If I’d like

to take a shower,

I have the option

of walking a

block down

the street

before,

during, or

afterwards.

mmdlxxxiv

I’m feeling kind of

log inside.  I can’t

be $46.  Could you

ever so kindly find

a way to make a

small parade and

just call me a cab.

I eat a few bitches

of the smashed-

together bagels-

&pretzels.  A

shower&coffee

w/ the neighbors

sounds nice, I won-

dered.  The total tab,

as it turns out, was

only 22¢, which is   
                just tabulous!

mmdlxxxiii

Peanut

He didn’t like it

as a nickname.

No, not one bit.

He didn’t like it

as a cartoon.  What

a silly cartoon,

he’d think.

Beagles can’t fly.

But one morning,

before the cat-

hedral down the

street struck twelve,

before it had even

struck eleven, he

walked in to a

dining joint,

sat down,

and ordered

a steak.  And

while he waited

for that steak,

he emptied the

entire bucket

of peanuts,

tossing each

and every shell

onto the already

shell-ridden

steakhouse floor.

mmdlxxxii

The Facts Communicate with Themselves
(and can often be found in the Fiction section)

I thrive on sentences. One might some-
times say that they are flying dangerously
off the side of the cliff. One might say
alternate reality. “Well that’s terribly
wrong,” says the comedian in a wetsuit.

“Allow me to diagnose this,” she says,
not even trying to disguise herself as a
real doctor. Everyone gets it except me,
of course. They’re all ROFL and then
she’s ROFL. I’m just ROF until I learn

that my name has always been neither
Ralph nor Rolph. “You have an excel-
lent understanding of today,” says the
thistle to the undergarment that is sooo
comedienne. Today we all say “hooray!”

Yesterday we sat dumb in our chairs,
like, twisting our heads almost all the
way around. Tomorrow will be so
passé. But jokes to some folks (be
they—the folks, the jokes—ditzy or

deep), even though they might be
funny to everyone else, are so
cliché. “I rest my case,” says
the Basket Case (who happens to

make a living as a basket weaver).

 “The dog ate my homework,” 

says Plunger. “I draw the line,”
says a boy named Sue.
People are just funny that way.

mmdlxxxi

The Big Lunk

You taught me the world.

What a language.  “But I

can’t introduce her to

anyone orange, the new

earth’s underbelly,” he said,

trying desperately to under-

stand it all.  The sea was

hissing like a snipe.  Each

piece of furniture wore a

comb-over.  And Once

Upon a Time couldn’t find

Happily Ever After, even in

this tiny little hearth (and

what an adorable hearth!).

Springs and thistles and

forlorn clogs filled all

space all the time (which

is not the continuum we’d

always imagined).  Frank

seemed to generally love

the songs, but could never

come clean, never break free

from the seedy neighborhoods

of the city that handcuffed his

tongue to the small thatch of

hair at the bottom of his back.

“It’s my small,” said Frank,

always knowing it was such

a big deal to everybody who

bore witness.  It was larger

than anything at all, really.