there’s no time to cry; happy, happy —R.E.M. I want to live in a painting by Thomas Kinkade. The critics all hate his guts— and that...

I blame everything on our thumbs. Their cursèd opposability; picturing how things would go if not for their relative acrobatics: the...

is that we’re duped to trill its praise, just beyond our tarmacs & cement, our fists of rage and road, the screech of iron wheels, the...

Never mind the put-downs or the jokes—that’s easily spearing fish in a wooden barrel. Ne’er a politician will appear in this silly poem....

In your stupor you speak of butterflies on your bed, their beau motif  of wings— embossed upon your blanket, dreaming they leap in flight...

I come up with the oddest things while downing cod. Never mind it rhymes with God. That’s Captain effing Obvious. But on Friday I crossed...

—an unrhymed Japanese verse form of five lines having 5/7/5/7/7 syllables per line You were more than a savant, sucking at everything,...

They threw me out of church They threw me out of church For the second time, I told the preacher to fuck off I told Reverend Henry E....

I me mine, I me mine, I me mine No one’s frightened of playing it Everyone’s saying it Flowing more freely than wine ...

The coffee maker’s cacophonous, its array of beeps enough to rouse the dead. No need for over- kill—though my eyelids have been leaden as...

I have 13 seconds to finally say I love you like I mean it. In just under 14 clicks, a car will strike you soundly as it speeds on...

I know a poet who begins his verse with an astonishing, a-ha end, pedals back like a politician— once he’s taken his oath: a bear on a...

Dear writers, today’s prompt of the day is the. The  begins many an intricate sentence but has no intrinsic worth other than as an...

When I was a child, I declared that meat was grown in fields, between the rows of golden grain, though I knew that wasn’t true. They can...

That big fucking bomb made me deaf —Tom Waits, Hell Broke Luce I must apologize for my critique. Poking fun at all things Waits: his...

You read about the twins cojoined at the tongue— one who preferred the sour, the other only sweet—what a pain that was when they opted...

Animals are innately atheist—or so I’ve always thought. Until you said the Easter Bunny came, the drop of chocolate eggs amid the hops. I...

I lament I’ll be forgotten once I’m gone. Failing to be the poet I had hoped. There are worse things in the world than not remembered....

I’ll put up with it once a year, tie the wormy laces of my Converse, not to look respectable but to ensure I will not trip around the...

The dog won’t let me type this tangled poem. She’s doing what any other dog would be doing at this instance:   whining, yelping, walking...