The Mezunian

Ciao, adieu,& sayonaratill next time.

Accompanying music. Viewed through blinds, your smoky scents with your rattling tracks & wheels passes straight through my brain stem with the rusty steel that peels scraps & bolts & coal-black fire, painted muddy brown & red. Midnight chugged without a tire & a million-meter bed. Sure your ghosts are sure cliché, floating in their […]

I’m wrong. All wrong. --& I’ve been wrong since the beginning o’ the bomb. «¡Ack! ¡You’re wrong! ¡Stop being so perverse & admit that everyone’s a lemon wedge on the edge o’ tea!» But they’re wrong, & that’s what makes them right, for the wrongest wrong one can wreak is being right. Look @ these […]

Still bubbling–sidewalk spit.

Crumple all my papers under bellies hungry for a scratch; feel & hear your dormant thunder while you ready paws to snatch jackets trying to pass by. But I know you always flee from the wall-clung fly-fast lights, even though just made by CDs. Playing poker, you beat me; now I need to pay the […]

¡Por ahí! ¡Mira! ¿Ves aquello espacio de estacionamiento que tiene las grietas y los bultos en la corteza? Es… No, viento, no puedes tomar este poema. Malo, ¿cuándo estaba yo? Por supuesto: soy eso espacio agrietado yo. Ahora, ¿Ves aquello espacio con la boca erótica de tormenta? No soy eso. No seré eso nunca. No. […]

To all the chewy chocolate that’s ‘tween my teeth, to the tears o’ stormy clouds both sour & sweet, to early evenings’ smeared lemon restless lights, to bus wheels’ jingling thunder-struck keys on kites, to flapping jackets that make the cool winds warm, to clapping firs both ecstatic & forlorn, to the tea & coffee […]

Blue in red hell, not where the roses rot, but where the rotten roses sniff unsmelled. The heart’s not warm, but caged in cold, told the warmth-made water would only feed mold. Cleanse the black rock o’ fuzzy green monsters. ¿Why e’en bother with those who don’t e’en bother? ¿Find these fish fit O so […]

I heard it, & we’re the worse f’it. I try to prop it all on my scarlet dictionary, when the spiral binding should’ve sufficed. You just can’t fuck with the fluoride fairy. If you try to, you just might grow a rosy boil that always feels greasy —perfection’s perfect foil. Easy, toy… & yet I’d […]

Such pastelleaves lodged in such tightsidewalk nooks.