Friday, May 13, 2011


How My Nimbleness with Gumballs Numbed a Golf Pro

My wit is my wisdom on x.
People in my bathroom find me winsome.
I specialize in spontaneity, check my résumé.
I think of myself as a passionfruit in a pantsuit.

I thank god for giving me the strength to bend,
for secretly weakening the bars on my last three windows.
I am a vehicle for change, for living life to the fullest,
for the capture and display of my endangered personality.

I'm something torn from the lower back of a romantic
with Irish issues and my ancestors, all stillborn, know that
accounts for the sparkler in my eye when I was six.
I have a vibrator in mind, inquire for details.

It’s that resistive mindset that allows me to bathe
in both your blood and my milk with such a high degree
of verisimilitude, to be both high and precipitous, both
interpretive and funky, to fly without instruments in my acid.

Not that I lack the gauges to talk you down from almost any topic.
I’m as politically savvy as a sandwich bag, socially conscripted
as a sock puppet dong. You look dubious but we can work on that,
I so enjoy a good makeover challenge.

Debate me now. Debate me hard. Debate me in my parents room.

I love to be ineluctably televised, especially if I’m chanted out
by a licensed biped. I want to be with someone but I’ll settle for someone
who can hold their own and mine on an escalator. Tense and agreement
are off my radar. Still my capacitors and you’ll repo me forever.

As for experiencing my vulnerability, it’s something I have spent
my children’s inheritance working on; it's important that my partner
also be psychosomatically minded. I guess this means looking inward
with some type of scope. Rather that than have to outrun another ward
of ex-patriots!

I believe relations are how you became who you are.

We all have our own narratives -- mine is a complex in western Oregon
and it has led to my premature depth and intriguing aroma.
Physically, I look much younger than my aggregate components -- very close
trimmed and partite. As I take you up this vulval ladder one of the questions
I’ll be asking most frequently, “How much do I resemble Sheryl Crow?”
Don’t worry, it also goes down-hill.

We’ll avoid each other’s staring, blacken up for holidays, snake wrangle –
I'm more of a dowser than expectorator.

Always is a word I learned while working as an assistant fluffer for the 80’s
reunion of Up With People. You can penetrate me for an adventure, weather
permitting. Be sure to discover something you can tell me about my attributes.
It might be buried under the sun porch or hanging on a pole in front of the new
Applebee’s abattoir runoff spout. I love the firelake in the moonlight.

I am both N, but sometimes Y, and if you find me even remotely C, we’ll be
planning a barefoot road trip along the main fault of the Enematic coastline! Seeking
out a Quonset hut you can get harder in than any typical boring through my crust.
I love to go salivating, (someday) offshore facials, (someday!) boiling eels to measure
the distance from me to Bali (someday!); I'm a free radical free refill frieze based on
the spirits of The Who (two of them) and my love of the encounter that ends in a coffee
house massacre.

I am antsy, a little, to find my hobbyist coroner, but hang around in case.
I can be pleased so oil up and we’ll see how your residue corrodes my through line.
At the end of the day you are a man, you have a hat or can get one, and I am one tan
girl on the far side of any odd number. Call me and we’ll corner each other.

What I’m Gamboling on with my Stegosaurus

Making a paste from the anterior lobe of a palpitating mermaid. If anything about this
makes you uncomfortable I would enjoy meeting you among many other forms of doing it.
Life is filled with worthwhile endeavors and doing it is most of them.

I Played Judy in Thriller

This is an extremity I’m holding up to the monitor, it proves that I’m a legitimate
broad, no question, so respond with an image of one of yours and that’s me rushing off
to catch a flight! What might be in my carry-on intestine (depending on destination)
on snoring pills, both kennedy brothers, enough kindling to get us through, spare gears, all
weather good years, red sun about to implode, my screen test, anti-death-ray cloche, heels
and a little black laundress, reliable old format raisins, the sharpie keys to my crayola chateau,
a color coordinated GUI in the shape of the hiccupping king of Germania, an original reissue
devil’s compass, pig iron implants and a sturdy hadron or strongly interacting particle other
than a baryon. mesons are bosons, having spins of 0, 1, 2, …, and, unlike baryons, do not
obey a conservation law. And back issues of the New Yorker.

I will bring along the lonely planet, too many books to read any, did I say rapist gear?, maya
angelou’s cockatiel preserved in a mixture of rare gasses, adolf’s recipe for bouillabaisse (attributed),
pocket urinal and special costumes for your little friend.

... This ellipsis expresses a lot about my personality: I’ve had a fever since
9/11, I’m biodegradable, curious about the gays, imagine a native really
sticking it up there while an optometrist whistles Mendelssohn as I speak/sing
Then rise seeker! Come forth seeker! Rinse in the fluids of the ancients
you met on the bus coming down…these are my best fitting mantras:

I am the third rail of your arriving thrall.
I thrive on the news I extract from pregnant immigrants.
Your gated development is going to feed all aspects of my shellfish allergy.
I think you know that I mean.

How I Mesmerize You into Staggering Along a Ledge

My heavenly limp?
My eyes can move in one direction at once. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
My tattoo that says “I enjoy an early pullout”

Sociometry, Mnemonics, Flatus, Flat-bottom Ecosystems, Skittles

I admit to a special fondness for the equine writers of fiction and poetry –
Joyce Corral Oats in particular.
J’humpa Lahiri: Lately?
Walked Some, Ran Some, Got Home
Goober Does Nuremberg II
One Man’s Tent in the Other’s Pole
Krispy Kreme: a History of Removal
Tickling, Mississippi
On the Insurance of Beasts
Boring Wallace Stevens to Death Again
Fart films and other good psychological dramas
Loved the King's Peach but didn’t get the peach part
Documentaries on hysteria
Blockbusters mostly disrobe me
I tune out a range of genres with blues, jazz, folk, folk
blues, jazz folk and jazz blues leading the list. If you don't
appreciate dying we probably aren't a good match.

I took an entire cornucopia into my mouth at once once. If we eat together, leave instructions.

There’s a speedup in my jeans. I don’t want to start out basing
our relationship on a waste of a good lie. Until I can be sure
you’ll fizzle with that tiller it’s best that we not misconceive
unless you already have the stiff arranged. Don't tell me
that’s what I’m seeing.

Snoop Daddy throws me into heaps, his throbbing ball peen
flattens the sleet in my “special ops” futon. Metalworking at a
tender age was surely what gave me my fear of gadgetry.
But I stoically leapt under the blazing dune buggy. Dizzy spells
is a subject I kept tied to one fingertip – slanting slightly since
the crash has moderated my tastes...but I’m always up for a teaser
pounding and a well drink just this side of Lake Superior.

My thong is sterling I thrive on jauntiness the threshold suddenly
releases the floorboards and you see me as the flocculent
embodiment of your 70’s triple-x fantasy Lubriderm target.
Possibly the slug is out of the bottle.
My outside voice just gave me a tip on the pro bowl.

I'm messily testimonial, went to driving school on a fullback
and the spectacle likely offended at least one of the farmers piloting
the backhoe where they’re putting in the new tilt-a-whirl tomorrow.
I know where the marketing is buried. Can you say free syphilis for life?

These Ixnays are the Rings in my Hell’s Bell

Pendulous nads
Anyone anti-Journey (I still ralph to Ainsley Dunbar’s fills)
Light coming through a window to stake me
Bumming change in front of the Four Seasons
The ocean when it crawls in my purse
Syncing issues with my IMAX vagina

I Spend a Ton on Timing Devices and for What?

This question has bound me to the backend of a fireman....
a mind too preoccupied with firemen can be entirely somatic, yes?

When a Type A Tried to Key My Mini I Went a Little, I Don’t Know

It can start simply enough with a simple fascination with the simplicity of masturbation.
Then it all goes Tesla, how he charged himself like a dime novel for nine bucks.
There’s weakening my neighbor’s night vision from the partial blind spot on my lime
flokati sectional. Or chucking loam and pyrite nuggets over the transom then sitting
back and waiting for the sooners and claimjumpers to overpopulate my thigh-highs.

I’m on the Move and Tagging Something…

That one most electric fastener
A suicidally ideating eagle
Foal stain (for my unfinished foal)
Gainsborough’s deleted scenes
A glowing stein
A thrilling flexor
The missing slushpuppy memo
Refurbished Jiffy Pop for three
A low miles Testarossa
My first love, he spent me like it rhymed

The Charges Will be Dropped If…

We came up over the high ridge as the sun was set on power saver.
The march was hard and your spelling of the word sceptical angered me.
We are less than the 50% predicted at birth, adjusting for inflammation.
I think your curious is almost as curious as mine is.
You won’t get back for the Beatles or anyone else.
You won’t get back from Earth until the committee gives the okay.
Once in you want to get out of me as much as you can.