Tag Archives: vagina

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

11 Jan


My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams


my foot fell asleep

and it’s having those dreams again, where


we alphabetized all our typos

and did sex stuff in front of them


until the correct spellings came out


A Year Without Prince: Prologue

20 Apr


A Year Without Prince

(this thing in 4 parts, prefaced by brief rambling

followed by a quick prologue and then…….zoom!)



Yes Lisa?

I’m not Lisa. I’m Dennis

Oh, sorry Dennis. I’m not Wendy anyway. I’m also Dennis too.


(Purple silence. Followed by dialogue)

That doesn’t mean we can’t still wear ripped t-shirts together and save the world.





vagina katana

half price cheeseburgers

dogs barking like abandoned flare guns

smoking outside another long-day-embedded-

shitty-kung-fu ashtray-sky

sort of night




(to be continued!)

The Most Unnecessary Bridge In The World

20 Aug



The Most Unnecessary Bridge In The World


So the power chord that I ordered

for this old movie camera that used to be ours


the movie camera stayed with me

what I lost was her

and the chord


(insert sound of time moving: here,

in an ear that has been conveniently shaped

like an extroverted vagina. insert it there, with the vocal intonations

of a mighty Herzog sneezing………can we soundtrack the hell out of it

with the original score from King Kong?……….huh?……….

I miss her?…………I mean, shit

that’s not where I was going with this,

This is serious.”Signs

I mean



I know there’s no getting her back

I knew that 40 minutes before the second time

that she left me

(her life left my life and while sure,

my life still stares off in the direction

of her life’s leaving

it’s all maroon vs. purple at this point

it’s irrelevant


her life has a new life to hang out with

and they probably have their own video camera

by now and it’s probably really nice

and they know exactly where the chord is

at all times)


and shit nothing really comes back anyway

because back is just a pile

of misplaced brevity

and previously house shaped sticks


and there’s nothing I can do about that

because I’m a pretty lousy time plumber

and what do I know about sticks?


but goddamn it there was something I could do

about that chord

(baby steps to oblivion)

and what I did was

I ordered a new one

and like I’ve already said at the beginning

of this, or no I haven’t

I got distracted in all this loss of her

because it’s everything, dammit


from the world and that thing that moves time

to the goddamn tree trunks in the backyard of the song

that Bruce Springsteen will never sing for us


once or at all

it’s all of it


made out of loss


which when you think of it…….


so yeah, the chord I ordered for the camera

that’s been sitting in a drawer

with its battery drained from the inside

for 6 years now

that chord showed up today

while I was at work


so when I got home

(two pianos playing rock/paper/scissors

with each move banging only the super-most

saddest of notes)


of course the first thing I did

was plug the entire goddamn thing in

I mean, I really put that shit together


I plugged that fucker in

and all the buttons burned to life

like a gallon’s worth of adrenalin

pumped straight into Uma Thurman’s

pulp fiction shaped chest

and there it was

just fucking sitting there or whatever the hell

it is that digital images of your own past

encased in plastic fucking do


an hour of footage

shot 10 years ago

before my heart had cracked for good

and the world had grown so goddamn unreasonable

that a fuck like Donald Trump actually has a

shot at being President


an hour’s worth of footage of my old life with Helen

60 minutes worth of pixilated memories

60 times more detailed then the memories

I have in my head and………………


……..I’m fighting the urge to be distracted

because to continue on about things we no longer continue

…………………I mean, ouch

“I need a drink”—R Gosling’s daughter in The Nice Guys


so let’s just impale ourselves upon the cliff notes

for now, shall we?

and we can all just try to fill in our own gaps later





fast forward to the bit about how we used to check into

mountain motel rooms and get super drunk

and have a really great time but also if this video tape

is to be believed we used to get into really dumb

stupid fights about stuff too

and for some reason we’d record them


I’ve only watched half of the entire hour

and we’ve already had two long

middle of the night motel arguments

that are so ridiculous and funny

and I found myself screaming to myself

on the tiny video screen to just “Shut up!”


I get so fucking stubborn and let down

about stuff that should just be disagreed upon

for a couple of minutes and then

moved on, or away from, fucking un-dwelled upon


but I had some goddamn theory back then

that if you talked about something long enough

then everything would eventually turn out all right


and we all know how well that worked out for me

so yeah, (cut to the original trailer for

The Creature From The Black Lagoon)


fast forward to the bit about the bridge


at one point in the video when we’re not arguing

like idiots we’re having a really nice time but we’re out of ice

so I grabbed the ice bucket and Helen grabbed the camera


and we headed outside and down the stairs to the ice machine

the motel is structured like a double decker Bates Motel

and the two of us being drunk and laughing about everything

we were convinced that somebody was going to call the cops

on us again because we were being loud and the last time we

had stayed at this particular place somebody had called the cops


so we were trying to be discrete and secret mission-ive as possible

because the ice machine was located directly outside

the motel managers office, which was pretty much

like the local Death Star for us at the time


so the plan was to get in, talk an old man into

disabling the tractor beam, grab the ice, and get

the hell back to our room as quick as Wookily possible


and the plan was going horribly

but goddamn it we were having fun


the ice had been secured, some local squirrels

had been made fun of, and we were about to head

back to the Millennium Falcon which was also known

as: our room, when the two of us at the same time

happened to turn our heads together to the left


and that’s where we saw it

Helen, with the camera

and me with my Helen loving eyes

lodged somewhat symmetrically in my head


behind the motel there was a bridge

it was around two feet long and

one foot off the kind of ground that looked

like it had never seen water


and we just started laughing

because the bridge was unnecessary

on a scale that made it remarkable

like a pumpkin the size of an igloo

or a really great work of art


it was the most unnecessary bridge in the world


nobody gave a shit about that bridge

that night, but we loved that bridge

for the fact that it was excelling at something


even if its area of excelling was

being unnecessary


we laughed about it all the way

back to our room, where we learned

that we’d lost our room key

and Helen set off to the front office to get us a new one

and showed up 10 minutes later laughing and without

the room key because she’d forgotten what she was doing

and did something else instead


which tonight leads into

me, still loving her


while back then it just led

us into another

unnecessary fight

Your Backbone and My Flute

24 Jul


Your Backbone and My Flute

(translation of poem by Mayakovsky as if mistranslated by Donald Trump)


I’d like to build a wall

around my penis

and I’d very much like for this wall

that surrounds such a thing to be

your vagina


That’s how special you are to me

The media doesn’t get that

If you’re trying to build an ant farm

you’re going to fuck up a lot of ants


before you get the rest of the ants

locked in there……what is that?

Plexiglas? Doesn’t matter


That’s just how it goes

I just happen to be really good

at stepping on things

What can I tell you?


But that’s only when I’m being Blue Collar, baby

In the bedroom nobody knows where to put it

like I know where to put it, believe me

I know where to put it


We’re gonna make so much love

with my flute, shooting Beethoven

all over your backbone,


that it’s gonna take a cleaning crew

half a week to get that place

straightened out again


I know this, because

I’m a job creator

Believe me


I’m going to fuck you so good

that Mexico will have to pay for it


and if Mexico says

‘Screw you’

then I’ll declare the following day

National Fuck Them Day!


and we’ll just order another jar

of lube up from room service

and charge it


to France

my penis is like a penis

21 Feb


my penis is like a penis


my penis is like a penis

it does everyday stuff

it goes to work

and comes home

it watches Netflix movies

and falls asleep on the couch

reading The Body Snatchers and Salinger

and all that


but when it was with you

my penis wasn’t like a penis

its status was elevated to something related

to a beloved pop culture icon

as if, when we were together

my penis starred on a hit TV show with your vagina

in which my penis’s ego was constantly accentuated

and it had grown accustomed to the applause


but after you left it was like your vagina took over the TV show

and you recast my dick

and now almost nobody’s interested in its autograph anymore


I mean there’s still interest maybe, but it’s nothing like the old days


with you I think my dick was a instant classic

like Laurence Olivia doing just a little bit of cocaine


Grief!, you greedy bastard…………………


on the up side, my penis

can watch old episodes of The Incredible Hulk now

whenever it wants

(historical note: her vagina wasn’t into The Incredible Hulk)


even though it should be in there cleaning the dishes

because I’m out of clean dishes

and the car’s overdue for an oil change again

and shit, my penis hasn’t even seen Deadpool yet

because it’s so hard

to go outside


Hell, my dick

really needs to pull its stuff together

unless it wants to spend the rest of its life

alone eating off paper plates and riding the bus


until all of a sudden another 25 years has gone by

and it finds itself gumming cream corn

in an Old Dicks Home

waiting to get Alzheimers


so it can forget about all those

James Garner scenes in The Notebook

because my penis doesn’t relate to James Garner


my penis feels more like Ryan Gossling

swinging from the top of the ferris wheel

trying to impress a girl


I mean, it’s not too late too change things


my wiener’s already got the ferris wheel locked down

and the swinging

the only thing it’s missing these days


is the girl