Scantily Clad Press, 2009
for Colleen Marie Pagana
Parades for Kings I dedicate this to you: “We dress as we see ourselves.” I dedicate this to you. I parade in my parade costume. It’s a paper-mache fish. I mean fist. It’s called: paper-mache fist. (“we met at the winter solstice”) (“like two corpses”) (“we both knew we’d love each other”) (“more than ourselves”) (“instantly at first glance and forever”) (“doesn’t that sound important?”)
Anxiety Reaction Calling his dog by his wife’s name he fancied himself the sort of man who’d smoke a pipe. Thin moon, actually shining. He picked up the telephone, called his brother. (How has it been?) (“I wanted to smile more than I did”)
My Reward Is to Remain on Earth until the Sun Explodes (making a closet out of mud and sticks) “You can never learn enough to be a genius” (saw the first butterfly and I killed it) “You can never do enough” (dad calls me the Suicidal daughter) (while mom plays the piano) (three of us under a tent in the yard) (air rolling out of our assholes)
Twelve Awful Daughters Twelve apples in an egg carton still miss being sat upon. Twelve vowels in the English language should be enough for anyone. Twelve awful daughters marry twelve lazy sons. everyone is so here today everyone tries to help Africa everyone saves dishes for morning everyone feels naked in the doorway everyone forgets everyone wants to go to the show everyone looks like a carpenter everyone is in the traffic everyone envied, then absolved everyone chooses their one free drink everyone dead in defense of free speech everyone free, free everyone
No Point No Point I know I don’t think like that. We know we both think like that. “I love walking in parks and talking to dogs in them.” “I love mourning in Spring, the yes or no of a hundred years ago.” I mean, we’ve got a very personal understanding it’s not impersonal it’s “I love it I think it’s dumbing down dumb.” just choosing its battles.
Temples to Animals (some goofball dork from wherever) (he was aping his brother) I chose to do this, for the television show. “It’s just dollars and sense.” I of course am keen on chimpanzees though I absolutely hate money.
Joyous for Want “You’re a character in a designated smoking area,” (“sounds like something some movie star said”) “I’ll play for you, singer of traditional songs from your homeland.” Please don’t, I screamed, please don’t touch that god damn thing one more time because it’s all fucked up now.
Songs by Italians for Other Italians The rodents and the birds and the dogs and the cats the world is certainly all saying Good Morning.
They Are So Pretty He proposes to her at dinner. Candles blur in the corners of her eyes suggesting to her a handkerchief. They don’t get drunk except on weekends, don’t itch, and do not need some vague doctor telling you how to live.
I Will Love You No Matter What He’s too young to be defeated. He painted his car Fast Yellow. (“The nudity was unnatural”) Manipulating the rock in his hand, salt dust like the dust on a chain, he imagines his teeth gleaming in light, smells like noon he isn’t going to go no he is not going to go and as his arm tenses the nerves all along his skin send send send nothing-signals his ace numbered world his faultless his who do they think one weird twist of his body the rock between everything him and the window and the grass and heaven and (“three ex-presidents jerking off on a cracker”) (“Bush Clinton and Reagan. So Clinton says”) (“When I jerk off I think about Monica Lewinksy”) (“and Reagan says when I jerk off I think about”) (“the bay of pigs”) (“you think about the bay of pigs goes Clinton”)
Grieving He’s haunted by his father who’s haunted himself by his ghosts and those ghosts too are haunted. It’s so real to him. (“I think I hear Someone Coming.”) And the spirit is not from us but is bound to us and to our bodies irrevocably even in death. (“It’s, durnit, it’s Someone Coming Quietly.”)
Out With the Old Rules In With the New Rules (“Summer can make a man feel wise”) the food is barely food it’s expertly spiced the news is a horror it’s not his business he met one of his neighbors she’s nice “One-and-two-and-three-and” he whispers to the marching band just as he becomes a complete success.
Photographing the Egyptian Pyramids (really it is a much bigger thing than a cat) (can you guess again?) “I like all these pictures of you.” “I like how you talk.” (no no it’s not a dog it’s huge) (too big to feel comfortable looking at) “I like your face I like every single thing about you but that’s not why I love you.” (I love you you’re my dearest friend) (it pulls on every thought I can even think) “I love you because of experiences I’ve had I could never even catalogue much less communicate.” ( (
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* i waitin for you crosses the ocean ten color lines five bedtime mum i lived in history stood in it and counted
* floated wrists among kites elbows running the table i crazy bout this poem bout you zuz into pillow eight holy allowing wine mustache and home
* dear absolute zero my breezy vacancy dialect fucking chooser pill sand shift and hiss i waited in a book vacationing across
Donald Dunbar lives in Portland, Oregon. He keeps a blog at http://sparethe.blogspot.com