Shiver / Bob Hicok

[alwaysashipper.livejournal.com]

Cold nights make me think

of frozen bagels versus fresh

versus my warm bed versus sleeping

and dying under the overpass

sounding impossibly tragically

funny to me, like overruling

the undertow or high-fiving

the guy who lowballed his offer

on your collection of hawk feathers

and string. In the Museum

of Horrible Outcomes,

the Unfettered Capitalism exhibit

runs from sea to shining

and slowly deoxygenated sea,

and includes human beings

in popsicle form, about which

the docents have been trained

to say, Fuck yes bad things happen

to good people, right on

right on right on. Anyway. And then

you move on to shiny stuff
like the Porsche 911 Walt Whitman drove

while writing Leaves of Grass

My Ass, Leave My Shit Alone,

that most American of poems

about the un-American dream

I pray we wake from

any day now and say Now what

the hell was that?

Comments

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Outstanding; thank you.