"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Yesterday a good friend said: be careful what you ask for  

re: my dream career in advertising   They’ll give you toilet

paper ads   It won’t all be work with über cool fashionistas

That’s just fine with me   For who really knows what will

become of my poems  + the paper on which they are written


All flung daily into the re-cycle bin   Toilet paper  filled with

ghosts of poems   Hours  Days  Months  +Years    Dredging

Digging in the dirt  Reaching higher than the holy clouds over

Jerusalem   (Orange ape inciting race hate as i write)  


This conundrum is not unlike that of Tom Petty’s   Now pushing

up daisies  Still largely unmourned   Tom sightings on Ventura

highway  daily   Once when a horrified Thomas  gazed out onto a

boooo-ing crowd  he was told:  Don’t worry man!   They’re not 

boooo-ing you  They’re cheering for Bruuuuce Sprinsteen!

Same thing!   Tom intoned  in his characteristic nasal groan


Well this is exactly my feeling about writing copy for toilet paper

versus exploding vowels  +receiving shitty rejection letters   Or

fielding the soul marauding question: What exactly did you mean

when you wrote  —- ?    So  bring me your privies   Your porcelain

buses   And I will wipe away tears   +turn on multitudes!


*(now how is that for a literary toilet paper ad?)




Winter  2017  ..missing   tom  david  leonard  lou   et al.

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