by the tenth inning
I began to consider
self-immolation
a malediction
placed on the state of Texas:
vegetarians!
dad sighed mawkishly
“my little girl has grown up”
he shook the pimp’s hand
seeing G.I. Jane
emboldened this virago
to stab Ridley Scott
his hair was perfect
but it was widely bruited
that his skin was fake
those silly surgeons
if they were less loquacious
I’d still be alive
Lexicon
“shower-fresh feeling”
never did quite find a home
in his lexicon
go sound the tocsin
our son has escaped his crib
with a taste for blood
the collection plate
fills the bellies of the poor
and keeps me in pelf
his father-in-law
a basketball votary
owns many tube socks
when Jack the Ripper
was described as aberrant
his feelings were hurt
we’ll just set him up
with some kind of sinecure
since he has no legs
the neighborhood watch
keeps this conurbation safe
from flesh-eating slugs
his final moments
were smothered under a pile
of gift shop gewgaws
the crowd’s gaze was fixed
the drama was palpable
fur would fly tonight
laconic response
to a bouquet of roses:
“I’m calling the cops.”
they dread the onus
of college graduation?
oh, they’re art students
the resplendence of
nature is sempiternal
and so is Ric Flair
you strangled my wife
I will not forget this act
of beneficence
this inchoate cast
will bear the likeness of Christ
once I get some yarn
effulgent sports cars
the essence of every film
starring Corey Haim