Three Poems

Corona Australus

I used to fall asleep early. I wouldn’t even make it to bed — I’d be trying to read Proust again, then the next moment I’d be slouched in my chair and drooling on my sweatshirt. Once I made it to page ten or so, but Myra was lounging around in her underwear and watching TV and this distracted me. I’ve always loved Green Acres, especially the episode about the “pore key” that you have to turn to close the pores of your house before you paint it, otherwise the walls will absorb all the paint and the house will end up looking as ratty as before. Every time I see an old house in the country, I remember that episode.



Narrow-Waisted Bark Beetle

I was happy to see that Jesus in Pasolini’s Gospel of St. Matthew had eyebrows that ran together over his nose. Ah, humanism: I knew I was a horse’s ass, because I was staring right at the ass of the guy who was the front of the horse.



Lead Cable Borer

Everyone is alone at the heart of the earth, pierced by a single ray of sun: and suddenly I turn on my headlights. I’d love to walk a mile in his shoes. Then he’d have to walk a mile barefoot to catch up.



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