poetry by (the)Doug

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Soroughly Thoused

I am where

my eye is not.

Welching faces, welping Macy’s—

I’m all full of lament.

Raising an Army of Sisyphi,

thin out their ranks a little with waffle ball bats.

Willing to feel pain,

but unwilling to accept it as a gift from anyone but me.

Never come between a man

and his stripper.

Nanny nanny boo-boo,

I can make dreams from the lint in my pocket.

20-year-old wisdom:

“The key to life is to never have a door.”

A hand in the stomach

married to a mouth in the heart.

I got a date!

I got a date!

w/ Cindi who is 28!

I feel so great!

I got a date!

Whoa—that’s something you’ll never see on a bathroom stall.

Yet.

My father used to talk about some place

called xanax xanadu; heard of it?

Prisoner #2+2=5, please report to

metaphorical river by the idyllic tide.

Let’s catch no birds with no stones

for a change.

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