New Jersey Poem

Wikipedia Poem, No. 529

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“Penelope knows by now … / the earth isn’t flat / and men sometimes get lost” Chloe Koutsoumbeli (trans. A.E. Stallings)

decade
playing
again
i must
love
this liquid game be
cause i’m playing again
stomach i remember

my
body hello i
am
down here
on vacation
chaos
result

its my baby
to
ruin
those perfect teeth
ignored bull you
wouldn’t
want to

ruin
those
perfect teeth
you
wouldn’t want to
put
the  baby to ruin

you wouldn’t want to sleep
so
i can party
sweet
soluble carbohydrates
a handmade moser crystal
old-fashioned glass

the baby
at ruin
those perfect teeth
ignored
bull
you wouldn’t want
that

Cause Trouble in the Yard

Wikipedia Poem, No. 521

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“With the social consciousness wakened, the average individual may learn to refuse the ‘honor’ of being the bloodhound of the law. He may cease to persecute, despise, and mistrust the social offender, and give him a chance to live and breathe among his fellows.” Emma Goldman

       tent dawn as my tent of a new day as my      tent          of a new day as
      through the se sun is       rising aboutrustling about sporadically
 announces the air is          cool and begin to           adjust    the air     is 
rising aboutde   
my tent i see my tent sporadically announces through the se
 air is rising aboutdjust the faint sporadically announces through the
        air         is rising abouthrough the s my tent sporadically announces
 the faint           scent i see my tent sporadically announces through the s
 eyes open        and crisp and         begin to adjust the sis rising aboutde
 my tent of     a new day as my tent of a         new day as the air is
    rising aboutair   as my tent dawn as my   eyes open      and     crisp and
 crisp and begin    to adjust the sin his own shelter rustling aboutide my
         eyes open and          begin to adjust the wildlife outside my tent 
of    a new          day as my        tent          of           a new day as
       my tent dawn as         the air is rising the ster rustling the srough
 the sun is rising    about scent dawn as           my tent scent scent dawn
 as my tent scent of hickory wafts through the sun is rising aboutde my tent
 sporadically         announces      through the air       is rising
         aboutde      my tent dawn      as my tent of a new day as my eyes
 open and crisp           and crisp and    crisp and          crisp and crisp
        and crisp and crisp and crisp and begin to adjust the faint sporadically
 announces the srough the air as i emerge           from my tent of hickory
 wafts      through the air is rising aboutdjust the faint sporadically
   announces the faint         sporadically announces           through the sin
 his own shelter rustling aboutrustling aboutsun         is rising aboutwildlife
 outside my eyes open and crisp and crisp   and      crisp        and
          begin to adjust       the srough the wildlife outside my tent dawn
         as through the air as           my tent scent sporadically announces
 the s        eyes open and crisp and crisp and        crisp         and crisp
 and crisp and       begin to           adjust the sun is rising aboute wildlife
 outside my tent of a new day as my eyes open and      begin to adjust the s
         my tent sporadically   announces           the sun    is rising
 aboutsee my tent dawn as my tent dawn    as the faint sporadically announces
 through the sis rising aboutent sporadically announces the sanate amid
 a semi-silent sporadically announces the air is           cool and crisp and
          crisp and       crisp and crisp and crisp and crisp      and crisp
 and begin to adjust the      sun is    rising aboutstart           of a     
new day as my eyes open and begin to adjust the faint sporadically announces
 through the sun is           rising abo

Anti-Villanelle

Wikipedia Poem, No. 513

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“My Mom watches Oprah to brighten the drear / You can keep your eyes open, see nothing at all / But it might be the zombies are already near” Tim Seibles

never trust a
lawman a tragic
figure a
brass roman
pendant hooked
upon a poke a
magic recursive idol

this brass poet oinked by
the academy of american
pedants click here to sniff at other
work
from poets
click here to hang
either/or

an exclusive
commission for the academy
of american academies
or click here to see
exclusive longbone huts
or a thirty-two-inch side of bacon
choked with gold filled nuts

so see the modern condition
for the american academy
of royal jewels a heliodor pendant sliced thin
by poet-warrior tragic figure this
colossal brass-polishing adipose lyre
measured in floral-print
current events fill the airless vents

crass pendant heiress
the one true idealist talisman
dangling like swollen testicles from the academy
american pork belly
mythological pokes and
tragic figurations pierced together
with self-acuminating ribs

Corruptions in Nature

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“lovely longing lone lingam / plugging the vastness” Ed Sanders

“I know where you’re taking me”   chit!
the tufted headboard sneers in ice-colored silence   chit! chit!

beside a self-possessed brown woman
with neither a name nor eyebrows   chit! chit! chit!
and six-figured earrings; sniffling mongrel

inside the leica   chit!   slurps wild gooseberries
and soaks his chalky bastard skin in champagne;
chit! chit! chit!

my hands bound behind in priceless
handcuffs    chit!   emblazoned with carved jade

cabochon rubies hammered 18k gold
my wrists worn to worm   chit!

First Barn Owl Egg Hatch

Wikipedia Poem, No. 484

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“There is a separation / between life and death / where [feathers] grow // and that is where I want to go / this weekend,” paraphrasing Padgett

screech
in green darkness
and 
stamp 
         my 
          talons

wet 
      leafy flesh 
the 
master has built 

there 
will be 
many bones

a small mouthful
       of mouse
      a 
      fatty 
       bite

‘Lightning Bugs’ by August Kleinzahler

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A cruel word at eventide
and night zips up
like a spider's retreat.

Go back to your febrile
needlework.
                  We shall not
be chasing lightning bugs
in the tall grass tonight.

Put the whiskey on the shelf
and let us speak calmly
of money.

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Source: Kleinzahler, August. Live from the Hong Kong Nile Club: Poems : 1975-1990. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003. Print. Page 34.

Poetess

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if one would iridesce greed one
two three patterns emerge
one skin of ochre
two blood like blood
three one can do nothing to
embrace one’s poetess
hang a snare one two three
from the nose of a fox one two three
what awaits one there one
spiked leather collar two
three a black vinyl dress
one’s beard dewless skin
covered in iridian mess

Belted Kingfisher

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By substituting X for their name
We begin to blue-grey a flicker rate
Between eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

The subject doing the describing,
For instance, receives big panicked gulps
And must not be allowed to employ simile
Without supervision—

How liberating!

Now, let’s consider X a revolutionary—
Stephen Dunn once wrote as much
While withering for cash.

If X died today, the sun and the moon
Would finally receive their answer:
A torn sheet of paper
for both celestial bodies:

Grim, graceful and surreal;
A canyon of sugar skulls,
Oh! the lightcycle enfolding forever
Like endless dough.

X insists
They need not be
Consistent.

X’s interdisciplinary epigram, anyway,
Inspired (which?) Dickman’s monograph 52 years on,
The latter being more studied yet
Significantly less erudite
Than the former, who cannot
Will not make up their mind
But will resolve to vacillate endlessly.

Do be you
Consumer
Of Coke.

X is one of the park’s rarest
And least conspicuous trees.

Found only on dry ledges of the summit,
X is little more than a shrub.

X is not a belted kingfisher
Despite their harsh and rattling call.

X is silly and not as
Handsome as you remember.

When Christ arrives,
X is surprised.