Dude, so sorry that half-wolf half-centipede ate your girlfriend's dad's face off!

Rodefer


How much Rodefer for a Klondike Bar?

New Poems
by Mike Hauser

single black portable CD player playing "Hot Blooded" out of an open 1st floor window onto an empty sidewalk

____

Two Questions

Who the fuck are these people?

Am I going the right way?

____

Personal Poem


Coldplay song playing

in the laundromat.

There's just me &

another guy in this

laundromat.

And that song

what the fuck's it called?

"Spinners"? "Engine"? "Crops"?

"Archer Daniels Midland"?

"I Heart Monsanto"?

It's the one my mom

really likes, and other people

I know who I think like it

would love to hear it right now,

and then, oh great!, I think I like

it too! And yet, and yet

I feel kind of like

violated by it.

Like this Coldplay song,

whose title I can't remember,

and that is playing in the laundromat

where just me and this guy are waiting

for our clothes,

it's like it's not just

moving me, but,

forcibly moving me.

____


guy in car
makes pecking motion
while turning left
and telling off
guy in other car

____

It always sounds to me like the guy in Nickelback should see a doctor.

(Yeah, Ear Nose And Throat Doctor!)

____

Journey

I feel like there should be an HBO series about Journey's career.

____

"can you hear me runnin?"

Are we supposed to take this literally?

Like, are we supposed to hear the singer's shoes?

____

Hey Karl

some guy named Ronald wants to talk to you.

Dude posts loner crum-bum videos on the wires we agree to as the Werewolf gluten.

High-larious! Dude's timing within the performative (who knew?!) space of this Op-Ed piece is just priceless. "My Doberman pinscher ate the kindergartner's bratwurst." I mean, just, oh my god. I can't take it.

this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do
this is what we did not pay for them to do

Jared White
Farrah Field

Thursday July 23rd 8pm







Salacious Banter Sweatbox
900 S. 5th St. (5th & Walker)
Enter on Walker (door now marked
LOBBY for your convenience)

There will be some food and drink, but feel free to BYOB.

Farrah Field’s first book of poems, Rising, won Four Way Books’ 2007 Levis Prize. Her poems have appeared in many publications including the Mississippi Review, Margie, The Massachusetts Review, Pool, Typo, Harp & Altar, 42Opus, La Petite Zine, Sojourn, Pebble Lake Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Fulcrum, and The Pinch. She lives in Brooklyn and blogs at adultish.blogspot.com.

Jared White was born in Boston, and has lived in Brooklyn for about eight years, during which time he received an MFA in poetry from Columbia, as well as playing a fair amount of music, mostly on the piano. His poems have appeared journals in print (Another Chicago Magazine, Barrow Street, Cannibal, Fulcrum) and online journals (Coconut, Horse Less Review, Word For / Word, Verse). He also published essays on poetry and music, most recently in Harp & Altar, Open Letters, and Poets Off Poetry. He was awarded a University Writing Prize from the Academy of American Poets. A chapbook of poems, entitled Yellowcake, was in Cannibal Books' Narwhal compendium. His very occasional blog, No No Yes No Yes, can be found at jaredswhite.blogspot.com.

YOUR RECENT ACTIVITY

07/19 You watched

Dana Gould: Let Me Put...

07/19 You watched

The Wackness

07/18 You watched

Paul Mooney: Analyzing White America

07/18 You watched

Bunny Shorts: 3: Brokeback Mountain

07/18 You watched

Bunny Shorts: 3: A Christmas Story

07/18 You watched

Another 48 Hrs.

Wienermobile crashes.

This was also in that notebook:

I have never been one of the men.

My face lies actionless, feminine flower.
I am covered (face) by the moon.

Perfectly still, 'cept for the water.

[It sounds like someone sliced the speaker's face off. Also, the poem assigns the movement of the water to my person. So in this poem I'm essentially an X Men hero, called No Face, who can make water move at will. But now that I think of it there has to be one like that already right? Right? So anyway yeah I think I really did write in those days with myself in mind as the "I" of each poem. I can only chalk that up to some kind of milk & OJ combo of alot of Frank O'Hara "I do this I do that" poems and James Wright "I'm crossing the meadow to go touch that horse" poems that were in my system. Now I've moved onto writing poems that sound vaguely like the work of a serial killer. I'm like creepy wine, as I age.]

This is a list in a notebook from about 2000/2001 that had "Poets" written at the top:

Grace Schulman
Claudia Keelan
new Komunyaakaa book
W.H. Auden
Spanish Surrealists
Marianne Moore
Li Po
Rilke
Reverdy, Jacob, Apollonaire
Sappho
August Kleinzaller
Cathy Song

Spill Proof

I will go live somewhere near a lady's neck.

pending slump

unbeknownst

Dream

Going around the compound with a huge load we had to dump somewhere.

Baths

like what if they just stopped working?

Poets date, continue dating, and date on into the turkey in the sky.

also:

The Shampoo Thief
The Milk Man
The Vampire Panic Attack
The Doo Wop Werewolf
The Shoegazer
The Sour Cream & Chive
The Llama Twist
The Lending R. Kelly Some Clark Coolidge Books
The Cowboy Hat Purchase

[Many of these dances will require what seems at first an almost balletic amount of pantomime. Several are said to have been developed by at least marginally deranged and/or sadistic people. But as the student masters more and more of them, they begin to see that these dances taken as a self-reflexive unity, compose an act of incredible love, and demonstrate the acute sensitivity to pain and rhythm human animals possess. It is said that the more dances a human can learn, the more enlightened that human will be.]

Zack's apartment, where Zack films me while I demonstrate such dances sweeping the nation as:

The Jaywalk
The Noodle
The Princeton Ponce
The Sidewinder
The Big Unit
The Lil Sneeze
The Tired Houdini
The Filibuster
The Rump Rumination (slow simmer)
The Doleful Booty
The Let's Not Tell Roger Daltry We're Partying Over Here
The Funnel Cake
The Carpet Roller
The Tarp Trot
The No Money Down
The Grape
The Greek Translation
The Gifter
The Platonic Introducer
The Pancake Flip
The Caterpillar Kip
The Wan Wiggle (cough syrup)
The Ask Me No Questions I Tell You No Lies
The Civil War Enactment
The Grant Proposal
The How Did I Get Here
The Bruce Dern
The Put Away
The Buffet Breakdown
The Janesville Jumping Jack
The Lord Of The Prance
The Snorkel
The Unsolicited
The Cake Tease

Boy The Bodies Of Vegetables

hey I'm an inveterate newsguy s' why'd you pluck all my stuff stuff?

Feel like I need a little nod from all the poets who dress terribly.
Feel like I need a little love from all the poets who dress so fine.
I'm cultivating this here Masters Of The Universe museum in my little sticker book.
I feel like I cd maybe get some o' these fresh & clean poets to look in it.
Feel like they might find something they like.

Sexual Glasnost

Tear down this zipper!

Get yr sweat on, he said, fr chirst's sake, look out where yr going.







STACY! SZYMASZEK & SARAH BUCCHERI

Tuesday July 7th 8pm

Salacious Banter Sweathole
900 S. 5th St. (5th & Walker)
Enter on Walker (door now marked
LOBBY for your convenience)

There will be some food and drink, but feel free to BYOB.

Everyone knows and loves STACY SZYMASZEK. But if you happen to be one of the uninitiated, we'll save you a googling:
Stacy Szymaszek is the Director of the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church in New York City. Her work has appeared in Lvng, Aufgabe, antennae, Crayon, Xcp, 26 and online at The Cultural Society. She has also been featured online by Chicago Postmodern Poetry and Here Comes Everybody. She is the author of Some Mariners (EtherDome Press, 2004), Mutual Aid (gong press, 2004), There Were Hostilities (repair, 2005) and Pasolini Poems (Cy Press, 2005). She grew up in Milwaukee, WI.


Also beloved and beknown is SARAH BUCCHERI.
Sarah Buccheri was born and raised in suburban Chicago. After a stint in New York City, she now resides in Milwaukee, Wis. She earned a bachelor’s degree from Sarah Lawrence College and a master’s degree in film from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee. Aside from her film and video work, Sarah is a performer and collaboratively produces regular performance art evenings at Darling Hall, one of Milwaukee’s finest underground art spaces. She has performed at The Marcus Center for the Performing Arts, Walker’s Point Center for the Arts, Galapagos Art Space, and at a variety of venues across the U.S. Most recently, she toured with a new show titled EPHKLATCHEMERAL, a collaborative performance that premiered at Baltimore’s 5th Annual Transmodern Festival 2008.

Stacy will be celebrating the release of her new book HYPERGLOSSIA, just out from Litmus Press. Bring yr checkbook, dummy.

Contemporary Device

ain't s'posed to show my panic attacks on touch screen
more than willowy only dancing pigment demarcation

single tear on the Rewind button

Declaration Of Independence

in hot pants woven
not t' mention stroven

Rejection Letter

the obligatory Everyparent shows ire

Hey Gerber

Annie's Naturals think I'm stupid

Tallahassee Kid

cute sounds pierce floorboards

when that passion screw gets on the eggs
my tie gets caught in the drive thru

Mayday Malone

lovely noon towels.

Corner Aisle

good gobbers! it dishes on my Mercurochrome!!
Oh heavens to Feng Shui...

No Host Tincture

splat zblat you talkin at?

Ma Ma Ma Root Canal

always chewing so carefully, yes
I do fear I may
fall into the basin of history at some point----------

High Brow Maintenance

Dear readers, I'm afraid the blogs haunt my dreams! Bad, no?

Also: "goat church".