Thursday, January 31, 2008



who didn't choose to be born
who said the world owed you a living
who promised you rose gardens
who stole your fire and sucked you dry of lime
who ate your candy and made you gnash your teeth
and weep openly in icy climes
who told you you were special
who made you president of the united states and said
you could bomb the kids across the street
who told you to wear that flag pin
who said you could soil your underpants
and who told you you were a good boy for going potty
in the potty
who said you could give birth
who tore open your vagina and gave you a puppy
who makes you midori sours in three-quarter time
who told you you were mozart
who said you were a tornado twisting in the wind
dancing on the earth posing naked for the camera
before china, india, asia, africa, australia, antartica, and the americas

become them
and let the waters dry up
the continents collide
into one giant mountain
known as my penis
and let it jizzom all over
the universe like a mad
ray gun, being shot off by a
buffoon on a pony - my anima-
then let it pee a milky substance
forming galaxies that spin out of
and in them, daisies
pleasing to the eye
they have tiny spots
that sing
remarkably badly-
like preschool children singing arias
but so what
say hallucinogenic
at the very least
smells nice
and good to have around

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

I’d explore for a sky
drink deep from the petal’s
core sponge
bathe down fresh soil
dampened by drooping rain
land on the cardinal of day
let him fly me town
flag the children’s museum
smile with the maturity
those young mothers
spread for the puddle of wind
where it meets gray gusts

but I’d always sing home to you

land along your hand gently
just where fleshy part
meets the thumb, or
settle on your shoulder
to cry for species
dazzle strong the antenna wit
that flings against headboards
at nightfall
quiet your rain
listen faithfully
I am that love buzz in your ear

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Zygote Arrived

Poetry spread her legs and dilated in my face
the portal stood a throbbing mirror
and with a chapped handed scholarly approach
my pupils stretched to the threshold’s size
cocked like a pup’s neck
to the big questioning cave dominion
of what is potential

what I knew
of the body
ended there

In my answer
a footstep inward
my voice dropping
to a harmonica’s breath
should I speak

The narrow chunking arena
in backwards somersaulting utero
to this ostrich egg accommodation
through the race of batons of oxygen and words
across the bloodstream of what is the face
except the manner in which flesh blankets a bone?

I ate what poetry ate
and she ate me

Under this umbilical
reciprocal clotting relationship
where I flourished like a cell
until I drained one hospital fluid
to come out of her lips


A Poem to Justify my Existence on December 28th, 2007

Snowy objective
put my nose to the icy pavement
the word of the salt
results in worm rigor mortis
and we chant om

The heart does perfume cardio
for the two spots on
the pulse can be sniffed
over a thin wrist
I can write when in love

Today I’m at the barber
everything will change
if she lets me keep my specimens
from the tethers of my scalp
when the bristles of the broom wear my wig maybe
(it occurred to me other black hairs could brush my blonde)
and the soul goes

I get into my car and fart
into the seat crumbs
the shelf life of cheese is immeasurable
I don’t want you playing out there, really

The heat has no effect on the short drive
I live too close to it all
the cold steering wheel is beautiful
like the ratio of palm to bone
I do not own gloves.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Forgive the bad pun

Throwing the Spears of Destiny

I want Britney Spears to put out a great album
that changes the scope of this world
and makes us all reflect about what it means to be alive
and then I want us all to have a glass of water with lemon
and think of Britney, and then simultaneously, everyone on
Earth will bite their own forearms, leaving teethmarks
For what end? Just to have a moment
when we are all in tune, an a-ha moment, a realization
that we are creatures breathing in air, and spitting out carbon
and pretty soon, we will all be nice beautiful computers that beep
and blurp and we won't have to read books or do math homework
because it will be programmed into us... credit cards
in our eyeballs, wads of cash up our anus
we robots will be cute
and make robotic love
on the factory floors
the conveyor belts whirring KA-KA-KA-KA-KA:
Outside sand covers asphalt, oceans turn
comets blather... doing their thing. It's like an adolescent dance.
Only it is billions of years old.
Contemplate Eternity
and think lovingly and respectfully of Britney.

Lying Awake

Mother and Father are farting
Both my brothers are farting
Everybody’s farting but me

The whole world is snoring
The entire cosmos is snoring
I’m just picking my nose
Staring at the ceiling
And masturbating
About god knows what

Monday, January 21, 2008


Andy Hall
English 447

A novel

I turned myself into the FBI for smoking marijuana
they dropped me off at the animal shelter
where they pushed LSD on me
and told me Jerry Garcia loves me
I said no no no, it's a trap.
You want to convert me to Jesus
and she took off her wig and it was Pat Robertson
and he did want to convert me to Jesus

But first, a round of good ol' American butt-sex
and then we could get down to Business

meanwhile I wondered if I was the reincarnation
of the antichrist, but it turns out I was
the Dalai Lama, and I really wanted love
or a diet soda and some corn chips to hold me
over to the next rest stop.