Tag Archives: nonsense

Regular Poem: Gamble

17 May

lay your money down
heap it in the pot
feel the excitement as you win

but realize
that too many people have placed the same bet
the odds were in your favor
so your share is small

you’ve bet
that i
wouldn’t learn from my mistakes
that i
would make impulsive decisions
that i
would be writing the same bullshit about the same four people for the thousandth time

that’s not a safe bet, babe
that’s a fixed fight

that’s the black sox scandal of 1919, babe

i use the gambling metaphor because
i use the gambling metaphor in my colloquial speech that everyone around me picks up on and subsequently uses

i’m turning us all into humphrey bogart
one hard-boiled cliche at a time
but not like regular philip marlowe humphrey bogart
but surreal dark passage humphrey bogart where
half the time you don’t even have your own face
just bandages and chiaroscuro
and spite

of course

you’d have bet on chiaroscuro and spite
you’d have bet on a lot of things

i always deliver on a lot of things
and never deliver on others

one thing i did actually learn
is that an always-never argument
is automatically invalid

there are sometimes

what are my favorite adverbs
who are my favorite people

they say not to write using adverbs
they say it’s lazy
telling rather than showing

what is a person
divorced from
she’s completing an action

adverbs answer a lot of questions

i ask
i answer myself
i use old-timey stock phrases

there are a lot of things worthy of hate
but adverbs tend to be
a grammatical whipping boy

catch me behind the woodshed
i’m always ready for a punishment
physical preferred because i know i can take that

put your money on me
i’m the horse with the worst name at the kentucky derby
but the worst names usually win
and you can wear whatever hat you want as you drink mint juleps

max bet
accidentally six bucks a spin
when really you had meant
repeat bet

but every bet
is still a bet
there’s the chance to lose
and the house always wins regardless


Regular Poem: Double Portion, Please

27 Apr

i had a prophetic dream the other night
i hadn’t had one of those in ages
and so wasn’t prepared for the effects

i started awake at 4am
sweating and aching
hands and feet swollen
stumbled to the bathroom
reached for my toothbrush
but then realized it wasn’t yet time
to be performing tasks

i fell back into bed
and back into dreams

of swamps and trudging through them
cautiously thoughtfully but confidently

when my alarm went off
and i reached for my toothbrush at the appropriate time

i still felt
the heat and wet of the swamp
the teeth of the alligator

my prophetic dreams contain
just small truths
but if i were to be perfectly obedient
listen and do
even twenty five percent more

what could my dreams tell me then

it’s a scary
i’m here at the edges of the sublime

elisha commanded an unseen host
and it frightens me to think
that could be me

at least i’m not an old testament prophet
i’ve comforted myself by saying it so many times
but what if i’m meant to be
but i’m indulging myself in being a piece of shit too much
to realize my full potential
and i’m just getting vague hints through bizarre dreams and weird interactions

of course it could be coincidence
but i don’t believe in coincidence
i’m a calvinist after all alas

i can’t just sit around and wait
for a mantle to fall upon my shoulders
dropping from a chariot of fire
so obvious too obvious
for my modern sensibilities

but surely everyone
has a prophetic dream every now and then
surely i can just live and be

if i really believed that though
i wouldn’t be paying so much attention to my dreams
would i
if i really believed that
i wouldn’t be begging for more

Regular Poem: Thursday

25 Apr

the worst

except for certain mondays
and an odd tuesday
and the fridays where you’re burnt out and smoldering

actually truthfully
thursdays are the worst
is more a truism a mantra an idiom
than a statement that retains any real meaning

because it’s all the worst
and has been
and will be being

i shouldn’t be allowed
to set the mood anywhere
and yet people almost always let me

kind gentle al exists
but i don’t naturally access her
i ought to try harder
instead of letting myself
be myself
who’s such a thursday of a person

Regular Poem: Not Sure About Former DAs Who Are Now Ambulance Chasers, Either, TBH

21 Apr

don’t get the wrong idea here
on the two points you’re probably worried about

1. i do know how a lot of professions work
2. i do have friends who are not imaginary

but that said

every time i’m talking to someone
who’s asking me a lot of intrusive questions
that i’m uncomfortable answering
and i can feel myself getting

riled up
worked up
torqued up

(i gravitate to the slangy partitives
[verb-preposition combos that work together as a verb–evidenced by their unit’s synonimity with a single word]
from an indiscernible old-timey western and or/southern dialect
they seem to fit the best for the kind of
[see what i mean about synonimity]
i get
just a lathered frenzy
where i want to julia sugarbaker rant
and point out every personal professional moral intellectual and financial flaw i’ve ever noticed
about the person i’m angry with)

i imagine
the former da who’s now an ambulance chaser
standing next to me
in a kind of ugly statement necklace
sloshing a little scotch onto my shoulder as she half-drunkenly advises me
“you don’t have to answer that
nor should you”

thanks counselor
i know
that’s why i made up a version of you to say it to me
a version that’s like a lady version
of my erstwhile dad
and ain’t that a kick in the head

i ought to invest in a regular ghost
and be done with it

Regular Poem: I May or May Not Have Any Idea What Realtors Actually Do, Part II

20 Apr

as it turns out
i was right
partially anyway

or maybe i willed it into existence

probably not
that’s never worked for me ever before
it was probably all just fortuitous
just some personalities luckily flung together
just how you have to be when you’re in that business

like you don’t have to be a priest and therapist as a chiropractor
although a lot of them i know are
you could get by and prosper
just adjusting
asking no personal questions
giving no hugs
saying no prayers
but God sent me to mine because she does those things
and i need those things

but a realtor has to know your sins and your troubles
so she can absolve them and ameliorate them
to sell your stupid house for a reasonable price
has to be kind and personable
to gain you as a client
has to be caring and honest
to buy you a house you’ll like

so i feel vindicated

i did confess
and i did ask about houseboats

i didn’t cry in her arms
i’m sure that comes later

Regular Poem: I May or May Not Have Any Idea What Realtors Actually Do

19 Apr

don’t worry
i’m still hating rosebushes and feeling romantic about the full moon
still saying plenty of weird stuff to plenty of middle-aged ladies
still being super good looking and mad that no one will turn their brain on about it

just out here
and being known and unknown
and being scared and aggressive
and being loud and reticent

just over here
sort of

i’m meeting a realtor tomorrow
and i’ve been thinking about how our conversation will go
like will i start with
“i read a book recently about a suicidal ex-beauty queen realtor and–”
or will i start with
“how do you feel about fratricide”
or will i be normal
cool collected professional
or will i stutter and ask stupid questions

it’s a crapshoot
nobody to blow on my dice either
and i just today lost sixty bucks at the casino
so my luck’s not looking so hot

“what are you looking for” she might say
“fuck rosebushes” i might reply
“i’m sorry what” she might say brow scrunched pen freezing above her clipboard
“what i meant to say was do you have any houseboats”

of course she doesn’t
this isn’t fucking sausalito

i’m kind of excited though
a new opportunity for a new friend
someone new to look at and tell my troubles to in a new context
i feel like i’d be the perfect best friend for a realtor
she could call me and be like
“this house i’m thinking of listing might be haunted
will you come with me”
and i’d be like
“duh girl”

it’s probably a bad sign
that i’m fantasizing about
an instant connection and intimate friendship
with someone who just wants a commission out of me
but it’s so sexy to me somehow

she’ll know where i live
literally and metaphorically
what mental emotional journey i took to get there
what i want out of a home and why
it’s personal

but i’m the girl who makes her chiropractor her priest and pychiatrist
so why shouldn’t i do the same
to a realtor

it probably goes without saying
i’m intrigued by old-timey medicine
the kind that’s half alchemy half superstition
herbs and poisons and potions and bizarre theories
no training no regulation
just ideas and pluck

i feel the urge to confess a lot of things to this woman i haven’t even met yet
and she’ll scroll through her offerings
she’ll be wearing attractive reading glasses as she does so
and she will find the perfect thing
she will read my mind and fix my problems

don’t worry
i’m still very stupid about so many things
but at least i’m trying something new

Regular Poem: Oops! All Sauerkraut!

17 Apr

i like sauerkraut as much as the next girl
who likes sauerkraut exclusively as a condiment
but it’s no wonder no one eats at this diner
except for me when i’ll be late to choir practice
if i go to a good diner

in what universe
does a reuben have less corned beef than sauerkraut
and no discernible thousand island whatsoever

oops! all sauerkraut!
i had a dream once
that instead of my alarm ringing
it was showering me with sauerkraut
that’s how this reuben was

i’m not worked up about it
i’m not mad at the diner
i like the waitress who may or may not be the only person who works there
i’ll just know next time
not to get the reuben
or the bierock

it really serves me right
for trusting diners with german food in the first place
like get real
and get a burger

but i just get so excited
when i see a bierock on a menu
and i didn’t even want a reuben
i wanted a tuna melt
on regular rye not marbled rye

come to think of it
i still want a tuna melt
who even serves those anymore
what was i expecting

certainly not so much sauerkraut

i’ve been having a lot of diner issues lately
i ought to cook more
but that would result in
a half can of sauerkraut
molding in my fridge after i ate exactly one
and exactly one
hot dog

another sauerkraut story
my mom used to make her own
it’s fermented rather than pickled
you know
and she would make it in a bathtub
like a ’20s bootlegger
if only we’d delivered it to side dish speakeasies
out of the back of a dodgey model t

i love that a popular
french term of endearment
is my little cabbage
if anybody ever called me that
it would have to be ironically
knowing that i’m really more
of a sauerkraut
kind of girl

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