Edward Taylor
My Felisberto
My felisberto is handsomer than your mergotroid, Although, admittedly, your mergotroid may be the wiser of the two. Whereas your mergotroid never winces or quails, My felisberto is a titan of inconsistencies. For a
Shut Up And Eat Your Toad
The disorganization to which I currently belong Has skipped several meetings in a row Which is a pattern I find almost fatally attractive. Down at headquarters there’s a secretary And a janitor who I
Happy As The Day Is Long
I take the long walk up the staircase to my secret room. Today’s big news: they found Amelia Earhart’s shoe, size 9. 1992: Charlie Christian is bebopping at Minton’s in 1941. Today, the Presidential
Loyalty
This is the hardest part: When I came back to life I was a good family dog And not too friendly to strangers. I got a thirty-five dollar raise In salary, and through the
More Later, Less The Same
The common is unusually calm they captured the storm Last night, it’s sleeping in the stockade, relieved Of its duty, pacified, tamed, a pussycat. But not before it tied the flagpole in knots, And
A Knock On The Door
They ask me if I’ve ever thought about the end of The world, and I say, “Come in, come in, let me Give you some lunch, for God’s sake.” After a few Bites it’s
Dream On
Some people go their whole lives Without ever writing a single poem. Extraordinary people who don’t hesitate To cut somebody’s heart or skull open. They go to baseball games with the greatest of ease.
Goodtime Jesus
Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dream- Ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it? A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around
Like A Scarf
The directions to the lunatic asylum were confusing, More likely they were the random associations And confused ramblings of a lunatic. We arrived three hours late for lunch And the lunatics were stacked up
Never Again The Same
Speaking of sunsets, Last night’s was shocking. I mean, sunsets aren’t supposed to frighten you, are they? Well, this one was terrifying. Sure, it was beautiful, but far too beautiful. It wasn’t natural. One
Upon A Wasp Chilled With Cold
The bear that breathes the northern blast Did numb, torpedo-like, a wasp Whose stiffened limbs encramped, lay bathing In Sol’s warm breath and shine as saving, Which with her hands she chafes and stands
The Wrong Way Home
All night a door floated down the river. It tried to remember little incidents of pleasure From its former life, like the time the lovers Leaned against it kissing for hours And whispering those
Success Comes To Cow Creek
I sit on the tracks, A hundred feet from Earth, fifty from the Water. Gerald is Inching toward me As grim, slow, and Determined as a Season, because he Has no trade and wants
Restless Leg Syndrome
After the burial We returned to our units And assumed our poses. Our posture was the new posture And not the old sick posture. When we left our stations It was just to prove
My Great Great Etc. Uncle Patrick Henry
There’s a fortune to be made in just about everything In this country, somebody’s father had to invent Everything baby food, tractors, rat poisoning. My family’s obviously done nothing since the beginning Of time.