publication

ah, it must be five-o-clock on a friday in colorado (i can smell the funk in the air)

my poem “new year’s meh” was just published in “Edge of Humanity Magazine” you can check it out here

i’ve been following Edge of Humanity for about a year now, and always enjoy the read. lot’s of good articles, poems and art. don’t forget to support e-zines like this, they publish poets like you and me =)

polyester (1st draft)

polyester 
such a pretty word
when draped across the cellar door
or swept across the marble floor
or wadded up in a porn store
dumpster
say it with me now

polyester 

i once dated identical twin sisters 
poly
and ester 
they clashed and they schemed 
they split straight down the seam
nothing loved me quite like jealous sisters
gave me thrills, gave me blisters
they lived in my dresser drawer
which rhymes with cellar door
so beautiful

from the polyester mountains of puru 
to polyester mines of malaysia 
the motherload of our supply-side
glows like green naugahyde
tastes like formaldehyde 
chafes more than rawhide
smells like something plastic died 
 
polyester 
the hidden treasure
in every pair of walmart socks

that’s a haiku

think of all the pretty things we say every pedestrian day
“pleased to meet you” or “hold the elevator”
or “apocalyptic table candles” or “pancreatic cancer”
or “seasick stallions” or “wandering cartwheels” 
or “siddhartha never sat in traffic, only under mango trees” or
“hey, we’re out of toiletpaper”
so beautiful

polyester
what word could taste sweeter pressed between the lips? 
not a kiss, not gossamer, not grandmother’s peach cobbler 
not cashmere, not lyocell, not fleece
(pol-yyy-eessssssssssss-ter) 
what could be smoother? not vanilla, not sarsaparilla
not satin, not lace 
certainly not velveeta
what could wrap and warm our broken souls any tighter 
than a brand new j crew christmas sweater?

sing it with me now – polyester!

don’t dis on my wardrobe
don’t pull on that thread
you can’t break it, can’t burn it, can’t breathe it 
can’t eat, can’t beat it with an ugly stick
can’t lose it, can’t leave it, can’t bleach it 
can’t bury it alive cause it comes back all angry and zombie-eyed
can’t wear it out, can’t wear it in, can’t live without it
can’t wash it in hot water
can’t wish it all 
away

say it with me now

polyester

posted for shay’s word garden word list

and dverse open link night

jupiter in the house of dust and luck

tom sawyer in outer space, copyright ziggy zagmyer

four hundred and eighty-three million miles from the sun
jupiter is too far to hitchhike 
        also 
buses don’t go there
so i wear jupiter striped sunglasses
drive a jupiter colored jalopy 
swerve wide and reckless down open highways
        so raindrops can’t find me
i’ve got expired tags
i’ve got weak brakes and a blown cylinder 
i’ve got passengers who need to get to jupiter
		immediately 
he is radio free universe
        she is a bootdagger blonde
he is a falcon hunting peacocks 
        she is the ace of flames
he wants to be sid
	she wants to be nancy 
(blackeyed boy down in the basement
pretends the furnace is a spaceship
he’s got snacks and supplies and a perfect place to hide 
no atmosphere, no gravity, and no angry fathers 
	on jupiter’s loving moons, roger that, houston)
she plays violin like a cricket in a stormdrain
	he plays mandolin like a weapon of mass destruction
she is a bottle of illegal fruitsugar
	he is risking addiction
she throws rocks at god
	he catches them when they fall 
(on jupiter, jesus is nobody’s sacrificial lamb
        just a man, union carpenter
throwing boy-minded smiles at his beautiful bride
his wild-lings wilding on the beach, splash! a purple sunrise
would you tell him it’s all illusion?
would you deny him one uncrucified daydream?)

she is a gang of runaway government horses
he was born and raised in the age of cartoon philosophy
(zen and the art of why did the chicken cross the road)

as we cross the rubicon
we jettison our credit cards and raise our freak flag 
	now we all ride in a phantom cadillac 
misfit pixie kids playing grab-ass in the backseat
the blackeyed boy rides shotgun
i hit cruise control and fiddle with the radio
	bobblehead jesus sings along
                (run little rabbit run)
in the glovebox: band aids, rolaids, boomerangs 
paper airplanes, other random things, and 
	mona lisa’s missing mood ring 
earth gets small in the rearview 
we won’t lament that cement armpit
not with ten more miles to go 
	so raise a glass of aftermath to the devil
	pour some out for the tax collector 
	say a prayer for the prairie dog king
		and all his kingdom come
	dust to dust and luck to luck
ten thousand heavens open up and we fly in
like summertime miller moths 
like 
a millionbillion
little
lost
paper 
gods
(poof)
gone

posted for shay’s word garden word list/ferlinghetti and earthweal