Chiplis

CY DOSTAL EXPLAINS POETRY

A poem should be about love, God, the world, and Richard M. Nixon
Cy said.
Tell us to go to hell, and set it to music
and then you can title the poem “what it all means.”

The good, the bad, the indifferent:
they all like chocolate cake.
It’s from the Hallmark “great cliches” series.

Poetry.
You get up on stage, drop your pants, and let the public look right up your ass hole.
I've done it for twenty-five years now,
and it still hurts.

Geoffrey A. Landis

 

MY COMPOST PILES

my compost piles favor stinging nettle
i’m thinking of starving myself to death
but lack the initiative . . .
i headed south
hit the 911 truth group
then back up to the hollow with a new filly . . .
grandchildren . . .

aahg! she gives me
till the end of the month to buy this place
friends call her a sociopath . . . no conscience or remorse . . .
(like the majority of americans)
my grandchildren need me
i’ve lost just about everything

decided to squat in my wall tent near my son & grands
yesterday i wondered about professional help
she lost her mother at birth
causes reactive attachment disorder
it manifests itself on me & my family
but i haven’t crashed yet

she tried to land a guy with an apartment in town
(to use his computer, phone, food)
he ran her off the next day
now she’s here on (her) farm with me
i keep hand mowing the nettle
pitchfork the dried around a tall pole
there’s something about constructing a haystack
the stuff is people hay
she made a great nettle quiche pie last nite
i see me teaching the skills i have
but more likely this fascist military occupied america will kill me

she said maybe she’ll be a plumber if teaching didn’t hit
i said next you’ll think of getting by with a flock of sheep & a rototiller . . .
i’ll still be circling the globe
and now i deal with personal loss trauma
i may shoe frisky (andy’s appaloosa)
& get out of auto-indoor-toxicity
the air inside is killing me/us
what a world

Jim Chojnacki and Wendy Shaffer

S B Smith