wMillion Poems

Copyright Jordan Davis.


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wMonday, May 15, 2006



When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie
And the red courtesy phone massages its blinking light

When the improv becomes a bus stop
And the painters debate what image
Could shut down capitalism

When I was younger, so much younger than today
And the pudding, advertised as "proof-free"
Colored in the wrecking ball
For the last time, Solomon Grundy

When a case of deals makes the tent card
Display its nerve sac to the prototype ur-burger
For minus a stadium linebreak
Next to the drawn glade a fizz messenger percolates
Into necessary sedative turnabout

When the nest-impulse
Breaks free of its hormones
And the rare book dealers
Wash their hands of time
And the Irish folk bands
Come back from their smoke break
To tabulate Fermatian nodules of loam

When the capsule reviews give you a better idea
Of the vacations the stars took after production
Than what you actually see for your twelve dollars

And the chimp you signed your living will to on a lark
Has learned the sign language for DNR

When so many exclamation points have been deployed
The commas stop working
And nobody knows where the periods are

And the paystubs are marked Please Recycle
And the floodwaters come by with the new Watchtower
And all your pesto recipes
Require hydroponic greenhouses

When tomorrow comes forty-five minutes late
Smelling like cheap perfume
And smiling at you with a crank call
To transcribe for a grand jury
With a wicked backhand

posted by Jordan #