Interleaving Poetry
Poems written separately to a specific length, then combined by taking each in turn one line at a time.
Poems currently shown: interleaved. Click here to separate.
Untitled, Throat Culture, and Also Untitled
She uses my earwax to butter her corn
"Oh, no," I thought, as I saw her approach
Mmm the humming of the birds
She gives me sex tips through a megaphone horn
She was a casual acquaintance of the worst kind
Sounds so nice blending with the wires
"Ouch, move your leg."
I prepared to receive the spear of her "how are you".
Why don't we microwave pigeons for Thanksgiving?
"Slow down-- not that slow."
I prepared to lie "fine" and hide my pain for her benefit
It would be a most interesting thing
"Don't bite."
According to social contract we all did this for each other
Mother, the pigeon exploded
"Tell me what you want me to do."
Suddenly I knew that this time my throat would not respond
That's OK son, just scrape the guts and give it to your sister
She uses my feet as doorstops, my jaw as a comb, my antlers as coatracks, my skin to strain coffee, my ass as a pillow, my pelvis as a storage bin for jam.
Rebelliously my tongue would spit out, "well, my grandfather has died."
I feel better without the Triptophane.
I feel used.
And then it would be too late to stop it.
We could watch fights to death on television instead of football
"I have different friends I go to for different things," she says
"My brother is hiding from the mob," I would continue, watching the panic spread on her face
Or maybe we wouldn't have to
She comes to me when she needs furniture.
My leg is gangrenous
The television rays cook my brain
She uses my earwax to butter her corn
I'm being evicted
The microwave rays fry my seed
She uses my ennui to sharpen her scorn
And my mother doesn't love me anymore
Brainless babies in Brownsville are very unappealing to me
I've too little gumption to get up and leave
She would be mortified, but I somehow relieved
Time to eat bread and brie
But plenty resentment to wear on my sleeve
"Hi, how are you?" she said.
Brie brie brie for you and me
This humble paperweight begs for reprieve
"Fine," I replied.
Oh what a lovely day it will be