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Ancient Evenings

You were naked, wet, primeval, beautiful by jungle pool
And I offered what I’d made with crudely fashioned tools
Strange nights by that strange new fire
As the crescent moon rose higher

Golden were your oiled shoulders under the Egyptian sun
I served you hauling boulders and was crushed when bearing one
Peaceful in in the sand infernal
For your glory was eternal

Once, in silks, you waved farewell as I rode to the crusades
And I screamed your name and charged on unbeliever’s blades
I was true to you, by hell:
I’m not that kind of infidel

I recall you were resplendent when they tried you as a witch
And I loved you, independent of your philters in my dish
I could not break the stockade’s bond
To save you from the ducking pond

I remember at Versailles, in that bergère chair
Your powdered wigs & perfumes, and all that underwear
The worst thing was we never wed
We simply went and lost our heads

On ancient evenings, in ancient times
I would have wooed you with silvered rhymes
I would have sung you this ancient song
Our days are precious, the night is long





Do What You Love & Follow Your Dreams

“Follow your dreams & do what you love!”
Cried Melva Wisconsin, unheard above,
Folding an exquisite newspaper boat,
Treading wellwater and barely afloat.

“Do what you love & follow your dreams!”
Wept Charles Golightly, stitching the seams
of a velveteen brocaded satin-lined vest
In which his pet oyster refused to be dressed.

“Follow your dreams & do what you love!”
Intoned Suzie Nackvirst, pulling on gloves
and building a castle of catpoop and spittle,
and nobody liked it, not even a little.

“Do what you love & follow your dreams!”
Sighed Pierre Fiero, who sculpted, in steam,
For a moment, a seascape with narwhals and ships,
That drifted away as he died of the grippe.



The Thing Is

The trip you take to get there is the dude you get to be
The trouble is you’re chained before you know that you are free
The thing is that it’s not so wrong be completely wrong
The thing is that the destination has to move along

The place you get kicked out of is the place you call your home
And you know your greatest lover’s one that leaves you all alone
The things you did unthinking are the smartest things you did
And all the stuff that shows the most is all the stuff you hid

The problem is the punch line never varies with the joke
No matter how you fire up, you dissipate in smoke
The thing of it is that you’re gone before you know you’re there
And the thing that is the worst thing is the only thing that’s fair


Sorry, I Just Accidentally Published Another Book

“A Slim Volume of Worse” compiles poems, correspondences, and short expository prose pieces of a satirical nature. I guess. Selected works have frequently appeared for free as a public service here on, and now here they are in their final, polished form: as a handsome adornment to your erudite bookshelf, I offer 233 pages of dysphoric hilarity, 36,629 words, for money. Please buy 1 copy for every friend you have, and 2 for each enemy.


What’s in it?

82 Heart-Healthy Ingredients:

  1. My Doctor Sucks.
  2. The Visitation
  3. Work Diary Day 89,237
  4. Internet Proposition 3,496
  5. The Cap’n’s Wafers
  6. Weird Dream
  7. The Amazon’s Mouth
  8. Parent Diary Day 1,243
  9. The Druid
  10. My Evil Twin
  11. Intellectual Property 4,215: The Family Tub
  12. Please Don’t Kill Us, Phyllis
  13. Feel Kinda Weird, for Some Reason
  14. Stolen Fruits
  15. The New Equipment
  16. 734
  17. Internet Proposition 5,214
  18. The Lament of the Spoons
  19. Transformed
  20. Southside Restaurant Review #1
  21. Murgatroyd’s Edible Hats
  22. Internet Proposition 7,298
  23. There is a Man
  24. Intellectual Property 5, 222: LatteBucket
  25. Spacegirl & Caveman
  26. Internet Proposition 12,651
  27. Wayne Upon the Wooftop
  28. So Here I Sit
  29. Intellectual Property 6,534: Hospicetarian
  30. Fat Ass on Couch
  31. Anachro-Go-Go
  32. Vegetable
  33. Intellectual Property 7,110: Clown Porn
  34. In Solemn Tribute to the Tortured and Exploited Action Figures of My Youth
  35. Squidboy on the Ceiling
  36. Every Creeping Thing
  37. Dream Diary Entry 3,217
  38. From the 34th Floor
  39. Disappointing and Creepy
  40. Intellectual Property 9,937: PorFu
  41. What God Likes
  42. Intellectual Property 11,279: 7 People 1 Bathroom
  43. Intellectual Property 24,005: Correspondence 2,146
  44. Dog
  45. Correspondence 4,111
  46. Animal
  47. Drugs
  48. Not My Friend
  49. The Cereal Killer’s Interior Monologue
  50. Pharma-Go-Go
  51. Gramourous
  52. My Children Hate Dinner
  53. Omnivore
  54. The Way it Ends
  55. Intellectual Property 25,011: The Kreekside Grille Jingle
  56. Home Improvement Diary
  57. Ready for Action
  58. Ones and Zeroes
  59. Sightseeing
  60. Captain Sugarbeard
  61. Internet Proposition 87,433
  62. Dig that Giant Clam
  63. Parent Diary Day 3,218
  64. Work Diary Day 23,674
  65. Dance of the Jungle Girl
  66. Intellectual Property 32,323: Hobo Couture
  67. Vomit Boy
  68. Southside Restaurant Review #2
  69. She Found her Ex-Boyfriend’s Paintbrush
  70. Karp’s Scoop ‘n’ Bake Frozen Gourmet Muffin Batter
  71. My Mistake
  72. Get ‘em While They’re Hot
  73. 2 Similes and a Metaphor
  74. Gas Station Rose
  75. Internet Proposition 88,766
  76. Kuru
  77. Mechanically Separated Human
  79. Her Watery Lair
  80. Notes from the Whine Cellar
  81. A Pirate Poem
  82. Rodent Station Number 9

Isn’t that enough for you, already? I should rather think it should be.

(Piggleyland’s still available, too)



Captain Sugarbeard: Poem & Picture, BOTH

Captain SugarbeardNVB

I’ve sailed hot seas of chocolate,
The bane of lolly-boats,
The truffle-barges yield their freight
(So they can better float)!
I’m maple syruptitious
When the waffle ferries pass:
They’re ambushed, then delicious
When I ravage them at last!

My appetite’s voracious
For plundered carrot cake,
I tend to wax loquacious
Over tartlets, freshly baked,
My crew and I have pillaged
Salted caramels by the pile,
Our hideout is no village,
But a secret dessert isle!
I have drunk an egg cream ocean
And a lake of malted milk
Filled with furious emotion!
Clad in fruit leather and silk!
The Captains of the donut ships
And galleons of jam
All know to fear these frosted lips-
The Captains know I am:

The dreaded Captain Sugarbeard!
The scourge of seven sweets!
The bonbon Barons quake in fear
At thoughts of ravished fleets!

The stolen bales of macaroons
And casks of lemonade
And danishes with sugared prunes
They’re right to be afraid.
Surrender, candy clippers,
For my Jelly Roger flies!

(But the dolphins clap their flippers
For I share the cherry pies).
The dreaded Captain Sugarbeard!
The ravening Corsair!
Your nougats shall be commandeered,
Confectioners beware!

I See Monsters

They say there’s a man who sees demons
Diabolically hidden & scheming,
Disguised from the eyes
Of us average guys
Who only see nightmares when dreaming

They say that he sees through disguises
Of subterfuge and compromises
He looks at his plate,
Does not hesitate,
But denounces the stuff he despises

I see monsters
Hiding in the corner of the room
I see imposters:
In that daisy lurks disastrous doom
I see through you:
You aren’t the nice thing you pretend to be
I see into you
And what’s inside is horrible to see…

They applauded this man with affection
For his brave and incisive perceptions
As a result
They started a cult
And submitted themselves for inspection

They say that he screamed when he eyed them,
And proceeded to curse and revile them
As monsters inside. “He’s crazy!” they cried,
And took him post-haste to asylum



Murgatroyd’s Edible Hats

Your erroneous assertions
Have been thoroughly debunked
Now there’s casting of aspersions
And your reputation’s junked?
Come at once to our new shoppe,
We’ll flip the tables on your flop:

We have vegan hats of carrot
And fedoras of pure ham!
Porkpie hats of roasted parrot
Or a crown of rack of lamb!
Are you uncredible, or worse?
Just pull your wallet from your purse:

We have baseball caps of brisket
Peppered turbans if you please
This top hat’s a buttered biscuit!
We have fezzes made of cheese!
Buy some quickly! Don’t you know,
They’re much nicer than eating crow-







note: edited.

At first it was Chef Poindexter’s Edible Hats, and then I realized: that was a silly name for a comestible haberdashery.

The Kreekside Grille: an Unsolicited Commercial Logo & Jingle

kreekside grille

The Kreekside Grille Jingle

Down by the creek we
Hunt the wily Langoustino,
And you will find him in the dishes that we serve!
He’ll be peeking from
Within your salad green- No
Worries, you’ll receive the Langoustines deserved.

At the Kreekside Grille
All the Langoustinos gleegle
As saliva goes a-streaming from your mouth
(I don’t think that your
Newfangled Speedo’s legal;
Hardly seems appropriate for dining out…)

At the Kreekside Grille
Langoustino Lobster spectres
Hover up above by skillions o’er the pool-
Drink your vino, Lang-
Goustino-flavoured Nectar,
Sitting, spouting in a puddle of your drool!

To say “mouthwatering”
Would be an understatement!
We put the spigot in spaghetti from a can!
Your Pavlovian
Response, without abatement,
Gushes to our Salivation Army Band!

Mechanically Separated Human

Once I had it altogether once, but now I’ve come apart.
I could tell a scrap of leather from a dessicated heart
And distinguish things of beauty from the things that are obscene
Once, before I did my duty and climbed into their machine.

Once we had a little culture, you and I were part of it,
But they sold it to a vulture and it ate the choicest bits.
Now we’re left with just the offal scraps, the eyeballs and the bone,
and we’re trying to make waffles with a couple heated stones.

You and I were once together but they forced us through a sieve,
Now I only have your feathers and I don’t know where you live;
I hope, with what’s left of my mind, to see you once again
When all our broken parts combine in meatloaf at the end.


-May 13 2012

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