2 (#LA Times)

3 (#Lemon Hound)



6 (Michael Dennis)





I am hiding my vulnerability at the shawarma shop

Some people need to die for civilization’s sake

Let me tell you about my exotic country then

Let me also tell you about the danger of not having a poetic project

Your dress invokes my longing for reality

I have a standard response for good looks

And the feeling that I will be punished for it

And that I will have to head back home to jerk off under pressure

The hit man is hungry

He needs encouraging text messages

Let us hear Hamlet moan because of his sore nipples

I have to stay here and ask for a better menu next war

There are people in the pub slowly eating their way into life



Dear Poet—death is just another tool for the living to use

And soccer is a wonderful sport

Even with all the time spent driving around

Here is one more thing to sacrifice for meaning—

I am alive but I lied to you

About the random desires I keep having

(Some distortions will keep making sense)

So what if we objectify each other?

Life better be a song

That is starting soon

We are mere productions of power

At least by feeling entirely surrounded

The rest of the rest are drunk

Including the Egyptian who is waiting

We will fuck you over kindly if you cross us

The virus that swept the computer today

Is not to be taken seriously



In the helicopter important people are doing important things

They are—for example—singing

And carrying important patients to hospitals

We are all walking the city streets without a chance of sex

The skinny bartender had this kind look

As if to say: “You need to look mysterious

Otherwise you will endanger the whole plan”

Even terrorists need some love

And you have something to learn about my feelings

I will start by putting you on a pedestal

Then talk to some political representative

Who will remind us of the importance of positioning

I will mention the tears that hit me in airports or in Cairo’s streets

It is time to exchange one exile for another



This is a badly decorated crisis—

Time to migrate to the next condo

All lines of poetry are created equal

So deliver your speech without background music

I finished my dream

Then with a skateboarder’s single mindedness

I went to the market

Some porn is taken for granted

Hopefully you can see

This poem is struggling hard

To be on someone’s top ten list

You always said: “Capitalism made me do it”

It is sometimes irrational to be irrational

And whatever you wear on Casual Fridays is up to you

Or so said the cockroaches of hope

For a dollar you can have a glimpse at the Dalai Lama’s soul

I need this poem to make it to the playoffs tomorrow



The aliens were jet-lagged

Having one eye and fifty hands didn’t help

The poem is a division of labor

Occasionally the muse gets pissed off

If you lose her purse

The others were grinding their teeth

The corporation approved us and advised: step up

We were just drunk not angry

And wondering about all the people

Who can’t expense their dinners

Then God—on a bad day—invented the poets



I am here to report back

The exploration of my subconscious was fruitful

How often should you open the refrigerator door

In order to watch

The structure of habits form?

We can imagine being the soccer fanatics

Who stayed soccer fanatics

Despite the changes to the rules

I attached my desires to this email

Please review them carefully



The poet at the soccer game

Reciting from Homer’s Twitter feed

Tires everywhere

Piles of used Xboxes

The bearded folks surrounding the entrance

One of us will get to be the boss

And feel the joys of the class system

One will die of fear

And although the guru said nothing about jerking off

I will manage to wear green

And offend no one today



Male strippers also get their feelings hurt

Despite your theoretical efforts you will stay skinny

There are times to be ruthless

For example when axing expensive labor

There are problems that can only be solved when alive

In the middle of the acquisition meeting

I thought of Frank O’Hara walking New York streets

My lunch poems were composed over Chinese take out

While we decided whom to fire

There are standard gestures in this world

Like my buying you a drink

Despite the obvious fact

That infinite people are infinitely poor



Occasionally at a crammed coffee shop

I discover some profound truth

For example: An insanely handsome celebrity lives nearby

Or that God sometimes protects the middle class

Sadness always arrives later

While reading a poem by a poet who just died

Graduate school proves useless

There are always bootstrapping problems

And people who uphold the law

And circus clowns who are not liable for damages



Sometimes we fail to communicate

And it is lots of fun

(As if there is glitter everywhere)

But thank you for the poem



I won’t die in Paris on a rainy day

I will be building technological platforms

And the business architects

Will be in perfect agreement with me

(The official design strategy will annoy all of us)

And I will nap for thirty minutes

Then die