39th week of Poetry

July 24


I miss


But I guess

I’m the minority

Like a lot of other things

And moments

in life

I would say



the lines

But nothing

comes of that



July 25


Does Lisa Kudrow

or Trish Stratus

Or Gillian Anderson

sacrifice virgins and bathe in their blood

during every full moon year-round,

because they do not age

and I do not understand it

Otherwise, they have found the fountain of youth

and it’s working.



July 26


Hideo Kojima,

you beautiful




July 27


Where’s the Voice of the Voiceless around

these days?

Who is it to help out these people?

Who watches the Watchmen, anyway?


July 28

Rust spots dotting the sky

Stars freckling down on the doorknobs of universal rooms

The sky is crying pink unicorns

The room is spinning at ninety-three million miles a minute around the sun

And what does mean

and look at me behind us

She is he and he is she and he is me and she is all together,


Tossing and turning, juggling planets in the midnight day,


Listening to that big ole’ Pete and Pete in the honey purple hued sky,




Spot rusts skying the dot

I’m sorry, was I where it’s all that

or is this lyrical music

not pleasing the Gods of Olympus



July 29


Rocking and rolling with the sickness




July 30


Go from one town to the next

Bruise your body for a buck or two and a pint of beer

And maybe a ring rat or groupie or two

And get your ass kicked

And wrestle for sixty minutes straight

Twice on Saturday, Twice on Sunday

Oh, how I miss those territory days




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