Megamouth shark eats dongpo porkfinal

MEGAMOUTH SHARK EATS DONGPO PORK WITH A SPOON

Nathaniel S. Rounds

Megamouth Shark Eats Dongpo Pork With a Spoon

Nathaniel S. Rounds Cover Illustration: Natasha Russell http://natasharussell.tumblr.com/archive

Fowlpox Press Š MMXIII Nathaniel S. Rounds All Rights Reserved ISBN: 978-1-927593-20-2

Moralize Mad Windmill I gave the tone-deaf octopus A missionary haircut (No charge And using kitchen shears And punch bowl) We stood in the rain Between a match and a woodpile I walked around him Making sure the sideburns were right He told me about his days back in the fifties As pinch runner for the Toei Flyers Baseball Club They wore hand-me-down uniforms But this meant nothing to him The only thing that mattered Was the game itself I asked if he ever missed the ocean The octopus looked at me quizzically Then laughed gently “Nah,” he said while making a face “The sun is best seen above water.”

Michaux-Perreaux Steam Velocipede Try not to think about Three Elvis Presley impersonators Who can transform into motorcycles And pizza ovens And who have fruit for hands— Fruit hands that regenerate When eaten.

Love I was winding my 1960 Dodge™ Polara around the 24 hour drive through convenience store with my huge friend Jav who was born in India and who plays bass in a bluegrass band when it came to me that what I needed for my two acres of barley was not chemical-saturated manure But a rhino because rhinos produce manure that has a neutral pH factor and then after picking up two Pepto-BismolŽ and a spatula we took a drive through a corn maze that from the air resembled Pliny the Elder riding a motorcycle emerging from the beak of a Lord Howe Swamphen when I suddenly got to thinking about making edible jigsaw puzzles for the sight-impaired and that’s when I met Tracy, the woman of my dreams because she was in charge of removing potential obstacles like cow patties and rocks from the path so people would not sue the farmer who made this corn maze and when she removed a sharp boulder from the ground using a chain and tractor I knew I was in love but I also had to put on the brakes and drove off-course thus taking out some of the corn but the farmer let me take some of the corn and I invited Tracy over for a corn boil during which Jav played his bass

and sang to a Bill Monroe record and boy did the Pepto-BismolŽ come in handy when we had eaten all that corn and figured out that we had no drinks. I’m still looking into getting a rhino.

Four year old boy It happens again Left at home by mom She works somewhere I watch the walls Turn into Netflix while I eat pudding With a fork from KFC™ Birds consult me on the balcony I feed them mom’s toast They call their friends Together We wait with them and For mom

House of Myrrh I still burn for you I still rise over youthful flame Ray-Ban™ eyes melt in heat from Your hot- sun -heart I still dance like a limberjack The flame tongue tickles In all the right places I still burn for you Gonna be a man some day But for now I dance to a torch song And the song keeps calling out your name

Fire in Iceland She’s the Queen of Mean She doesn’t need a switch blade To stab your heart Or a wrecking ball to tear down your head I never seen her reach for a bright light to make you cry She’s misery as quickfire Surrounding your house She’s your bag of guts burning Through cold, harsh ice

NASDAQ (After Hours) The good and mighty NASDAQ She’s looking mighty fine For the heartless at least You follow the poison From viper’s kiss to unsuspecting prey From Judas to Jesus And you know this thing is gonna blow You know it and yet you keep silent by the Window Waiting for the rain but glad your house is Called a home And it comes with a roof top

Who Moves Who I run into my house through the window Dance to sunrise Rays bend to pop Italo disco Trento Meet me on the other side Of your personal data Back of head Ear full of noise Eyes looking through and beyond Feet running in dance step formation

Spokoynoy Nochi, Irène Thanks for shopping at Pushmart☭ We are now closed We ask that bring your poems to the front of The store Where our cashiers will gladly help you pay For them And while in the check-out aisle Why not pick up a box of Pogrom Crackers™-They're the saltines shaped like cossacks In the big, red box On behalf of our associates at Pushmart☭ We wish you good night

Arm Chair/Maine This preadolescent son Is reading bleak, modern La Peste Course painting on front The gargoyle-like man seen from the back Over the city of plagued rats The burnt-out author with cigarette on the Back He squints while leaning against a white wall And this is in a paperback with a cellophane Skin That peels off the paper cover In the heat of the summer of 1984 In my mother’s painting studio Where she paints confrontational portraits Of the working class, the unskilled The stubborn dancers in alleyways The people so callused to romance That they prove romantic

Throbbing Spam for Heart I am in Limassol, Cyprus at the moment.

Throbbing heart pooped out, begging for Functionality. This is my self identity Grooving soul print. You can try to lose, or Use the tools to be ill, playing Monopoly with My brain and heart. Bag my heart, if Appropriate.

Nathaniel S. Rounds is a Pushcart Prize nominee and sleeps under his bed with his Hitachi camcorder and hat.