rereading oneself

i was just looking at some poems from october...i would use some of these in a book as a sequence. several to a page but some i don't like...i'll put an x by the ones i would delete...

Tuesday, October 14, 2008
short poems upon awakening this afternoon




state

oh i don't
feel like
capitalizing today




X sorry

i saw your
mary jane wrapper
but missed you




X lee

you eat candy
in the universe
where i don't exist




feeding my bugs

when i unwrapped
the big Romaine head
i felt bridal




cops


the state's always
so sarcastic
change the channel





X cheaters


it's always a restaurant.
no wonder it's blood wedding
when she gets taco bell





X someone


called sarah palin
orwellian. she might be
julia and BB both





X taken

beauty of. the beauty
of. the. what.
beauty of. oh.

i know.




slept


walking towards. strange
the hills of. you.
hummocks of your cops





cops


can be groomlike arresting
you. gentle. not orwellian.
put you in the back seat

i felt bridal





taco bell


the state's always
a restaurant. no wonder
mary jane is orwell.





another way

the big Romaine head
so sarcastic. cops
admiring. the beauty of.

their own groomlike arresting




nobody likes that

the young jeans tornado
with a Gotham sty. tried to kill
the x men. that's so not sexy.




don't

make a snuff film
and call it an x men
movie. that's not sexy.





don't

make a war and call
it a government. this
is not the taco bell channel.




i like them

i dreamt hummocks of
cops. hummocks of cops
all night. groomlike.




always i see

women courting women. men
courting men. you're all
very gay. this isn't the oscars.

but you are billy bob thornton.



i'm leaving you now

i have to go out in the sun.
my molerat squeaks and gibbers
afraid. of your grocery dividers

how could emily face a grocery divider?






this is a war universe

i can't start scotch tape.
sometimes not cling wrap. toilet
paper. and you want me to what





you are young

someday tho. you will meet
the molerats of poetry. even
x men fear them. their lips

are behind their teeth






X i'll tell you a secret

most poets aren't generous.
i'm the fucked exception. but
i'm no molerat. to be social

with them you need a magazine or podium.





sometimes i just feed them

because i'm afraid they're gonna
eat some of the others. keep them fat
until they make some tennis court oath.

then we'll be safe




X i need to channel my

inner black woman more.
"range rover. bitch move over."
pray to missy. jesus just wept.

but missy got those seven digit numbers

kay, oh kay kaaaay?