Febreze Poem

Killing time in a robber-baron mansion
since the clouds stopped all the ferries
with leather seats made from Kennedy skin.

Stealing after-dinner mints for paying customers;
do they really have grass-fed butter in them,
or is it…

Typing Poem

And here’s the beginning.
She was bad at sex because she couldn’t type.
She never practiced with paper over her hands,
so she couldn’t peek at all; I memorized the whole thing
even though the paragraph was just nonsense
to avoid common combinations of letters from real life.

Licked Mirror Poem

Keep the mirror licked clean.
My balloons are completely popped.
Do 15 hours of yoga streaming;
my WiFi is complimentary.

Leaf Bag Poem

There were arguments about the future of snow
and when the temperature would be warm enough
for all the babies to turn out male and hetero.
The flakes might make it until all of us now are dead,
when there will be something better to play in.
A leftover Halloween leaf bag was carried a mile
in the ditch…

Dugong Poem

They verified your atoms were on several continents;
returned items often end up donated to the third world.
When you’re halfway through the door,
I figure out how you can turn fake stocks into cash.
The shower grew mold in seven seconds
just as you rolled out the “gay-looking” insulation
for the exposed…

Tribble Poem

You’re the ideal customer assistance;
cut me in half for the prestige.
The bobby pins turned to Tribbles in a week;
where are all of my dirty jeans?
Get through my sternum with a screwdriver.

Light Bulb Poem

Every cat under the porch smelled like propane,
hovering in the air, going straight to the brain.
Empty bottles of cologne, a spotless-mind thing.

Ninja Turtles Poem

There was a lot of consensus of who should die,
but which albums should go to the moon was tough.
There were a lot of hanging chads by the stripper pole,
and the song playing was unavailable for download
so no silent trip in a soda can for this sweaty bass line.
There was a lot of smokin’…

Goalie Poem

I may have mentioned before that goalie
that got bondaged on the field.
It was barely OK for budding players to see
during the middle of the day on TV.
They zoomed in on him picking grass from his teeth
while the other end of the exchange
was faux humping the corner stick
and some idiots took out their…

Barbed Wire Poem #2

Don’t come any closer; the barbed wire is pulp fiction.
I’ve been replacing the worn out bits
around the whole perimeter,
while you’ve been looking through binoculars and sitting.