Hell (from The Fall, Camus, tr. Justin O’Brien) I am an immaculate skeleton. I smell of dead leaves and furniture wax. I prostitute gulls with the help of alcohol. Tosser (from The Odyssey of Homer, tr. Richmond Lattimore) I hope my wife is not too drunk yet: she has the only key to the house.
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My beard Spreading eternally over the surfaces of my face The wide plains, the rolling hills, the tiniest crevices. Never ceasing to grow. Except for that one time when I accidentally shaved it off. My beard is like the fall. As autumn leaves cascade groundward at the faintest breeze, So fell my beard into the
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a woman is a test with all the questions hidden. If you don’t know all the answers you fail. ———— Jesse Weiner is a poet who does things. With words.
Because I would not stop for Crafts The Counselor yelled at me I think that She is quite an Ass And Stupid probably. This whole damn thing Is such a waste And I am forced to play When all I’d really rather do Is Get the Hell Away I drained the Pool, where Children dove
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A Bar Lorca, Dickinson, and Neruda walk into a pub. It’s a pub we’ve all seen before, full of darkness and smoke and complaining. Neruda sits at the bar; Lorca chooses a booth. Dickinson stands by the bathroom, begging for change for the juke box. A fight breaks out, a dark fight. Neruda has been
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