I became so mad at poetry
That I punched myself in the face
Repeatedly with a startling strength!
I think as a moral imperative
We should probably kill ourselves
Tomorrow, or stop reading poetry,
Or cut off our hands and mail them
To poets we don’t like, or loot a Dunkin’ Donuts
And pour all the donuts down a storm-drain.
I recently was instructed to close my eyes
And pay mindful attention to each part of my body.
I hated each part and wanted to obliterate it.
I realized I don’t know what my nose looks like.
Let’s agree that my body is repugnant
In a completely non-aesthetic way.
I think as a moral imperative
The proletariat should come over
And carve my repugnant body up with knives.
When I desired to know my future,
I searched for the tarot cards I purchased
In Vermont to understand Charles Olson,
But I quickly remembered that I’d lost
The “three of sticks.” Someone said, “hey,
It’s not called the three of sticks.” Someone else
Explained that it was no big deal.
The three of sticks is insignificant and marks
An onset of a venture, or a venture’s delay.
I thought about it and foreclosed my omen.
I felt ok about that. I thought, If I can’t take a train
Down to Rittenhouse Square and mug someone,
Why am I alive? Let’s imitate the body with horror.
I hate this book I’m reading intensely. I think a bad way
To review a book is to write down the exact opposite
Of what you really think, and keep a tally of all the people
You tricked. It’s a technique that makes me intensely anxious.
This and other techniques make me long for insurance.
In my dream, I said to David W. Pritchard
“some of your ideas seem wrong-headed or obscure,
but many more of them don’t, let’s disagree,
but overall it’s ok because you make me laugh,
you’re cool to hang out with, etc., let’s go
ride bicycles all the way to Chadd’s Ford, PA,
enter into the Casimir Pulaski Memorial House,
and either dance like wingnuts or smash up the joint,
or have some kind of trance reading a la Cora Hatch.”
Hey, poets—! Instead of being inscrutable,
Please come to my house, bring a gun,
And destroy me materially and totally.
I fell asleep reading about Andrew Jackson Davis,
Who ran around the entire country believing completely,
The law of his body on the earth and the law of his ghost,
also, on the earth.
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