Apr 2, 2011


One has a future or, perhaps, only a minute
or two to go, but in either case
a person has an idea which is pretty much the same thing.
What are you possibly thinking, that I wouldn't
be bogged down with the weight of weightiness? Unbelievable!
Just now the sun bellyaches its way into the room
and the folding chairs at the stadiums begin to swarm
with insects both alive and dead. And in countries that I've
never been to and don't know what, say, the name of their money is,
or anything of substance except that I'm pretty dumb, in those
countries people are really getting fucking bombed. So good morning,
new day of future ideas and stupid poems! O stupid poem, you
lovely little darling! You cute little jump suit! You often
admired chunk of happy! I salute your weird beard and the
coffin you happen to ride in! I salute your curly-q desire for
lunch! I am proud to have galloped at your side in the
whiskery dawn of impromptu suffering! I am neither sad about,
nor unimpressed, with your emptiness! I care not about
your terrible results! You furry rodent of doom! What up, G?!
Who's in the mutha fuckin house?!