Sunday, February 28, 2010
In my hands, I want to feel
the crusted black loam
of generations: the hands
that slit the cattle’s throat,
strangled the chickens,
stroked the lamb’s ear,
grew calloused and sturdy
and bent. My mother,
watching the tractor
turn over the soil
on her ancestral farm-land,
saw the spinning wheel
of seagulls rising behind it,
to swoop and peck at any
chance green offal left exposed.
“I have to believe,” she said
“that a world this well planned
has to have some kind of force
at work behind it.”
I want to feel that in my hands;
a certainty to hold on to.
Monday, February 15, 2010
SWEEPING THE NATION…
Like your id on all fours,
like a combustion engine with a mouth,
like an excitable inmate on broom duty.
Allow me the honors, you heard it here first:
The dance goes to the volcano’s edge.
Bite your tongue, you might draw some blood.
The tide has turned on a dime, and you
have a one-time free trial offer to track it.
DNA sampling is just one of many hidden costs.
Join now. Void where prohibited, and we’re
pretty much nihilists, so, y’know, do the math…
Sunday, February 7, 2010
ACT YOUR ARCHETYPE!
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characters, all at a (“brooding, heavy-hearted”— we threw that in gratis!) click of a button…
Are you a freewheeling fire brand
who doesn’t play by the rules?
A pouting vixen with issues de padre? Maybe the hilarious gay next-door neighbor best friend? Or an exuberant man-child who always bursts through the door at the wrong time?
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