Blousy Guitar

Blousy guitar       I don’t want to count the beats      Hey Hey
My pen       I have bed hair in the best way     Daughter
of sunlight and air         and I’m glad you were born
on this day or put another way: that you were

born       Let’s be super stars       Let’s call each other ‘suckas’
Turn everything into writing       Lord of my Love
and eat new raw oysters with many condiments
to lord & love       to be generally great

The flopping flowers that die in a poem
Summer solstice smacks me in the face       ridiculous
and I dream the different       like a naked sonnet
Your raw throaty laugh submerged under hot noodles

I wrote ‘valley’ when I meant ‘longing’
Your laugh a river               A trout kind of green




Survivor Tree

American Elm               Sweet gum
one nexus grawk
$39.95 plus
a Federal Building bomb survivor

and meals dubbed survival meals

I mean money plus a week of
Mondays in your pocket

Tear a wad of cotton candy with your teeth

Telling the truth               a stop sign
Lights     and ran a red

A week of easy meals

Reboot RoboCop plus
‘Low Road it is’

Mona Simpson | First Sentence