Four Poems
by Michele McDannold
Charlie
don’t Surf!
Axl rose is high on moon pies.
He does Frankenstein bits for the pony show.
He confuses Manson with the Viet Cong,
A chop-shop in the consciousness.
One quarter puts a man’s face, flat on a penny.
I had a summer like that once.
I wore a black hat every day, until
I left it in the Topps Big Boy;
When they tore it down,
The fever left me.
The Little Hairs Sings
The lights are pretty
and everything tingles
the skin it just tingles
and the little hairs sings
the smallest parts
hidden mostly
it shoots there too
oh, like a phantasm
i think
I think of pink
I wonder about
peanut butter flavored marshmallows
how the earth can revolve around a shoe
if you think about it
and maybe that’s just leather strappings
but they can be important too
or maybe I am just drunk on wine again
damn wine
rash of grapes and vines, stupid wreaths
it’s always been a thorn in my side
I can see it in others, plain as day
but me, oh my
it’s just one cup
to the lips
a crimson tip-toe to the devil’s lair
The lights are pretty
and everything tingles
the skin it just tingles
and the little hairs sings
Ahhhh!
She’s the latest ‘It’ girl
followed by a round of
needle kept, pen tapped
junkie monkies
well, it sounded good
all around about
2:43 am at the local
bleeding joint
which is just down the hall
in her sitting room
a cross-legged meditation
in banana suits
with a keyboard jolt
for good measure
and all the letters
she licked them off
while the whole crowd
just went
awe
Message Board Mala
Mental :stability
reading the DSM for hobbies
a round of pogo
with invisible electro-super heroes
a rather encour aging convolut-in’ conversation
with the delete button
delete .button