This Cheeto Looks Suspiciously Like A Masturbating Man

[Headline, Huffington Post]

This Cheeto doesn’t look anything like me when I masturbate. Should I be worried? Huffington Post male masturbators are among the premier writers and news correspondents in the world, right? If this Cheeto looks like a Huffington Post writer when he masturbates, am I doing it wrong? Am I some kind of deviant or pervert? Or is that purvert? Or purvurt? Or, if you own a cat, purrvurt?

I never compared masturbation notes with, like, my priest. How does he do it? I have no idea. Masturbating makes me want to snack. Does that tell us anything? How many individuals masturbate and snack at the same time? Is that weird or normal? If normal, does it matter whether the snack is healthy or sort of junky? What about binging?

I did see a… what would you call it… a sex tape? Three hundred different amateur, or “amateur,” women masturbating (one at a time). I think… I think they were doing it sort of like me! Except that I’m a little more liberal with the lipstick and nail polish. I need a group! Do they still do groups? I looked into self-pleasuring groups and all I found was something called a “circle jerk.” Eww!

The Huffing Post is liberal, right? Left wing? Maybe I’m just a Republican masturbator. I am right-handed. This would assume that Republican men masturbate. In a dress.

Who makes Cheetos, anyway? What the hell is wrong with them? Cheetos make your fingers totally orange, especially if you suck on them (the cheetos) and get them wet. You eat a bag or two whilst masturbating and what have you got? Soiled briefs. And a wife who wonders why your underwear is stained with the orange residue of… what?

I remember my fifth-grade teacher grabbing me by the shoulders and shouting at me, begging me, pleading with me, ordering me, commanding me to only masturbate in the nude, ever. Take off your pants and your underpants, for the love of God! she would shout. I can hear her now. What was that all about?

I spoke to Horace Pourous about his famous Cheeto collection. Added my voice to those of others urging him to place his remarkable collection in the hands of a responsible museum. During my visit, I saw the Cheeto That Suspiciously Resembles A Woman Masturbating, the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Man/Woman), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Gay), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Lesbos), the Joined Cheetos That Suspiciously Resemble A Couple Having Sex (Man/Sheep), as well as the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Penis, the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Dildo, the Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Vulva, and the classic Cheezit That Suspiciously Resembles A Cheezit Giving Birth To A Cheeto. Like me, Horace has orange stains on his fingers and his fly.

510+ Haikus About Summer, Love, The Earth, And Everything Else

Typetrigger

Mostly not real haikus in the sense of “using imagistic language to convey the essence of an experience of nature or the season intuitively linked to the human condition,” but the syllable count is (usually) correct!

moon down prairie dark
as a trucker signals a
turn at the crossroads – See more at: http://typetrigger.com/trigger/trucker%20signals#sthash.GS29Gpbl.dpuf
moon down prairie dark
as a trucker signals a
turn at the crossroads – See more at: http://typetrigger.com/trigger/trucker%20signals#sthash.GS29Gpbl.dpuf
moon down prairie dark
as a trucker signals a
turn at the crossroads – See more at: http://typetrigger.com/trigger/trucker%20signals#sthash.GS29Gpbl.dpuf

the lights did flicker
and dim at just the moment
of execution

camera case dust-
covered, his android handling
picture duties now

early onset are
words you don’t want to hear nor
late onset neither

we met and fell in
love blah blah blah heading back
to the singles bar

bad love song lyrics
the love fire burning in my
heart got doused by tears

clear surface water
turquoise below then azure
still deeper lightless

trout leaps for black fly
a splash quiet circles spread
on a mirrored lake

moose stands on frozen
stream cloven hooves chipping grooves
in crusted white ice

all staff infections
invasive toxic remind
us that we are flesh

this sudden friendship
seems to be based on our
needs. is that ok?

hidden between us
all the thoughts we never share
and the damaged trust

bad love song lyrics
the red walls of my heart are
bleeding to love you

the chemicals i’ve
snorted are at war with my
natural hormones

sitting on a box
full of dynamite, shoes off,
thinking things over

our queen and your king
the parents of two countries
acted like children

a howling wind masked
the sound of howling wolves and
then of howling men

chlorophyll green and
sky blue, pleasing photons that
nature singles out

it’s fun to play with
but since it’s not quite human
they hide who it is

a timer for the
earth has gone off triggering
various alarms

typewriters, pay phones,
and adding machines, stacked on
shelves in dark storerooms

strong currents through the
brainpan as old sparky cooked
another texan

what’s wrong with a world
where ice is unknown and the
trunks of dead trees burn

eating a garden
burger with catsup and my
deer rifle ready

a hundred million
years evolving excellent
survival tactics

in new orleans a
guy approached me and asked me
to go to the zoo

full sunlight and most
animal on animal
feeding done for now

i sensed the aura
when she swept into the room.
one good sniff. garlic.

in california
i built my new home on firm
ground and yet it moves

endless forest and
shattered leg. plenty of wood
to use for a splint.

is she receptive
to my advances because
of me or my wealth

is beauty truly
in the eye of each of us
or an absolute

movie stars used to
be unblinking onscreen but
now they seem to blink

there’s more over the
wall going in than over
the wall going out

in a different
view the winding road is a
direct path instead

that stardust above
is carbonaceous chondrites
but romantic ones

saved us both a lot
of grief by divorcing my
guy ahead of time

rain rattles on the
tent. a short candle lights the
map. they’ll dig in mud.

in spring natural
events proceed like clockwork
unless the clock’s fast

if someone says here
be dragons and means it you’d
best stay on your toes

john’s touchstone, helping
him make his big decisions
was his pink iphone

some starfish live a
long time but they stay starfish
doing starfish stuff

instinct guides all but
one migratory beast and
that one needs a map

it’s a cruel world
but it could get a heck of
a lot crueler

sadly the word drugs
has fallen upon hard times
but i love my pills

a coincidence
that drugs rhymes with hugs or the
universe winking?

the water jug held
moonshine so the woodland hike
was short but happy

backpedaling is
always a good option to
have available

once a splinter group
homo sapiens has become
the majority

under the earth crawls
the worm. in fact, dirt is worm
poops. castings. humus.

after thirty years
of marriage, my sweety grew
fatty sugar lumps

the waking hour for
predators: evening sunset
twilight gloaming dusk

good for the raccoon
which will take the time to wash
before chowing down

clear murmuring creek
fresh susurant breeze
soughing in treetops

the instinct to suck
it is strong at birth and in
some doesn’t fade away

so far i haven’t tried
meditation but i plan
to give this much thought

red dog yellow field
birds fly up except for the
one being retrieved

he broke a string but
kept playing for her because
it was a heartstring

it’s time again to
remind you that you don’t have
forever to act

starlit gray bloodstains
glimmering on fur in the
silent night forest

fly sits on fresh meat
you ready with your swatter
fwap but you miss it

cheetah’s red nails drip
at the kill. lucy paints hers
before using them.

which causes more pain,
love or regret? which to dodge
with work and daydreams?

after so many
years of school rules for dress i
cannot dress my way

nature for every
metaphor also provides
anti-metaphors

double-edged is used
metaphorically but
is not double-edged

unconscious hellbent
for goals very different
than his conscious ones

why is it that why
i quit in the past tense is
not why i quitted

cost: mass destruction
benefit: better results
the next time around

at first unique, the
archetype becomes quite the
opposite of that

the roaring quiet now
zoo closed for the night lions fed
boredom put on hold

she was right there as
he eyed the passing girls and
prepared to whistle

he wore a crooked
smile when he said i do and
she knew she had goofed

the orchestra plays
on; the audience has stepped
out to check their feeds

she gasped and slapped him
but that was not quite the end
of his clumsy gropes

floating cheese crackers
ducks had to wait millions of
years for lakes in parks

though he was barely
living he tried to breathe life
into his writing

silence he shouted
quiet he roared be still i
can’t hear myself think

little girls play mom
to their dolls and later play
mom to their husbands

blood in water spreads
coloring the water pink
sunset before night

how long is long when
the universe is only
billions of years old

in this sex book i
guess the good parts and the bad
parts are the same parts

my dog freckles is
not freckled. he’s hair covered,
only nose and butt bare.

i’m in trouble when
a shot glass isn’t enough and  i
switch to a jam jar

mildewed zinnias
from the warm days and cold nights
winter is coming

gratification
via abstinence is a
two-for-one bargain

snow began to fall
as we walked in the forest
she wore my jacket

no appointment wait
with nature unless you count
the one at the end

moon down prairie dark
as a trucker signals a
turn at the crossroads

yum she said looking
at it then yum yum she said
after she ate it

valentine’s day is
hearts hearts hearts but how about
that ole pancreas

these days to rouse the
rabble the rabble-rouser
must post some great tweets

there is no safety
in safety pins when they’re all
open, points ready

don’t look back if god
tells you that you’ll turn into
a pillar of salt

breathless trembling the
doe stood still breeze in the leaves
the puma so close by

mister jones’ paddle
was infamous. they bronzed and
retired it with him.

those two boobs think of
nothing all the time but boobs
aka boobies

welcome to this vale
of tears and laughter for your
once-only visit

can you see it in
your heart to think of someone
but yourself for once?

expect hubris when
my husband opens his mouth
to defend himself

the future of love:
hard to fall in love when you’re
sweating heavily

best compliment i
ever received was about
the shape of my lids

she wants to stop but
on her back quiescent she
sinks into the depths

let me play devil’s
advocate: everything is
going to be fine

somewhere this fiction
is true and the facts of my
life, and me, are not

eat it up and i’ll
give you more but not enough
to damage your faith

the nonbeliever
is a true believer in
something else instead

sloppy thinking led
to the invention of the
sloppy joe sandwich

insomniac’s bed
constipatee’s toilet and
lover’s selfish heart

my conscience was right
about everything but i want
to do it again

a liquid sunset
every red-orange hue tint
and shade in the sky

hollow pineapple
vodka, orange liqueur, lime
and an umbrella

i know you are a
content teen but feel free to
carry on anyway

flying fish, trout catching
flies, salmon, visiting the
world above water

heroism is a
dog and human thing. you won’t
find heroic cats.

i have a secret
box and now i only need
one or two secrets

some canadian
geese do not entertain any
migratory throughts

my drugs betrayed me
by keeping me alive for these
worst times of my life

in haikus there is
nothing mentioned that also
is aforementioned

fox caught red-handed
or red-pawed in the hen house
mouth stuffed with feathers

the room was crowded
with older honey bunches
presently widows

my mom always thought
that if i could, i’d… really
she knew me too well

empty hospital
all cured and at home again
or cold in the ground

a euphemism for
euphemism is let me put
it to you this way

i’m on a side street
do i park and walk or go
back to the main drag

feeling nostalgic
doesn’t mean it’s too late for you,
just that it seems to

blue sky, summer sun.
dry grass and poppies cover
a golden mountain.

a spiral horn is
good for butting and also
can look pretty cool

nature’s labyrinths
caverns hollowed out over
geologic time

what rule explains the
connection between “boring”
and “everlasting”?

is not rebellion
futile when facing death as
the adversary?

when words fail, rethink
the ideas behind them
and the ears in front

my dream prophesy
was quite simple. soon i would
be in the bathroom.

he behaved like a
virgin but it was because
he was slow to learn

drought clouds the farmer’s
mind, makes planning difficult,
water becoming dust

man’s instinct is to
domesticate and use, not
integrate and share

recite this chainmail
haiku to ten others or
prepare for the worst

boy shakes wooden hand
of cigar-store indian
on a dusty street

lava, escaped from
the earth, at last running free
into the blue sea

two visitors meet
on an iao valley path,
a boar and a man

birds felt the ground shake
and flew up. the quake did not
harm the seeds they ate.

from a break in the
trees i can see the skyline
of a treeless city

in Delagate, i
deligated an injured
council delegate

since i blew up
at him my husband has been
startlingly human

in the back of the
refrigerator is a
private place for food

i forgot to peek
behind the veil. instead i
just proposed to her.

don’t trust your reason
or your desire or your luck.
trust is a mistake.

i made a mistake
with my marriage. it wasn’t love
but i’ll see it through.

red wine with body
head of red hair with body
zen mind with body

my dad told me i
would be skinned if i teased a
girl just one more time

a sunny morning
a foggy afternoon and
a night full of stars

today’s tragedy
involved me and my sick cat.
tomorrow’s, mankind.

spam and baloney
those noble meats now so ill-
used as mean slang terms

social change so slow
but fortunately there are
occasional  spurts

last in line at the
gates was man, all the other
lifeforms already dead

we all vowed to be
more careful, but not until
after it happened

worst diaspora?
rabbits? kudzu? starlings? rats?
mussels? cane toads? man?

her mom was waspish,
her date goatish, she sheepish,
her dad a guard dog.

deep in the closet,
at fifty he took a step,
reaching for the door

iphone imother
youtube youriver rapids
wiispeak corporate

was it a timewarp
that transformed her spouse into
a little baby?

the dragonfly, the
hummingbird, the albatross
do not walk very well

where to they keep their
memories? in drawers or
tales or just their heads?

they go to the creek
to drink one by one at dusk
a panther buffet

nature designates
nothing unlawful, even
crimes against nature

years later i went
back, but my old school was gone,
replaced by a store.

brush your teeth, make your
bed, floss, jog. after your loss
keep your days normal.

three inches of fuse
to go and this office, job,
and me will be gone

suddenly… but wait.
pull back for some perspective.
a lot of sudden isn’t.

lost love, self-respect,
the car keys. fortunately
later found the keys.

organized chaos:
greased pig competition with
multiple porkers

razors can convert
ragged into smooth whether
for better or worse

chickens  coming home
to roost – is that a common
occurrence or what?

sirens in the woods,
homes burning, cottages, burrows,
dens, split-levels, nests.

a professor, the
fox running through dense heather
chased by howling dogs

i will not trust you
ever after all your lies
about love and dogs

afterbooks tools pots and pans
and when i’m dead and gone it’s
all yours to deal with

were it so easy
to understand subjunctive
mood, more would use it.

some things are alive
some things were alive but now
are just things that are

a school of fish in
disorder as a shark cuts
through, mouth open wide

not dead earth, for the
life within it will evolve
to replace dead Man

my wife got mad at
me and called me a worm and,
worse, a molecule.

silence. no reply.
nothing. but it has meaning
if you can read it.

daddy’s due back home
fido’s not clock watching but
he knows the hour well

manly big white teeth
bulging slick muscles tensed
doggily panting

it never happens,
she said. promises or no
promises, we’re through.

clouds of mosquitoes,
gathering threatening storm
clouds, clouded wet eye

usually, to
hold an object lovingly
is to remember

now the young scholar
learns something new and useful
in bed not in class

an incredible
shot, they called him dead eyes
instead of dead eye

good news for today:
a blue streak appeared in the
smoggy sky above

the sky a little
lemon, a little orange, nice but
radioactive

wash of sunrise light
all this glory spoiled by the
fallen on the field

my mini mart is
the mini mart’s blue dumpster
shared with some big rats

a phony phony
is what? a super phony?
a meta-phony?

i share one little
theory with you and you
think that i’m crazy

noose around his neck,
the details of his life seem
of no consequence

are those murmurings
a product of my stomach
or of my conscience

in memory the
years may fall away but for
much too short a time

nature is aimless,
undirected, random, a
very good role model.

absolutely free
love arriving today from
countries overseas

left-handed warblers
turning out over wide seas
they can never cross

why doesn’t angst lead to
action more often instead
of just to more angst?

dim light between night
and morning when most hunting
and killing is done

was it a case of
mistaken identity
or desperate love?

what you have taken
you cannot return. some holes
cannot be refilled.

livid vivid bruise.
gravid, she’s livid avid
fervid perfervid.

how do you say that
which you have to say, in the
face of great anger?

we were men, now we’re
wolves. werewolves. no need to ‘ware.
we are not warewolves.

(“wer” means “man” in Old High German and Old English.)

nuclear option:
just take a gun and blow your
own brains out with it.

finally winter
long absent will become known
as the lost season

he was hypnotized.
she was intrigued. they stepped
off the cliff of love.

how do i carry
that weight? i never get up.
it imprisons me.

kate, nate’s late mate, showed
him the gate when she caught him
on a date with cate.

bad news in the air.
do you hear it? probably
not. most of us don’t.

truth, the light bringer
may arrive with pain as well
and fresh confusion

impressive silence
i stand alone in a field
no breeze and i sneeze

yes I forgive you
but do it just one more time
unforgivable

dance of shadows on
cave wall, thrown there jittering
by this new thing, fire

unfortunately
citizen science often
includes the bible

slow loris, coolist
of the animals on earth,
if not existence.

recreate the past
in memory, emotions
like ghosts in your head

i’m telling you for
the very last time that this is
not quite the last time

coincidences
good luck bad luck happenstance
all such things take time

is the darkling sky
at twilight the same as the
lightling sky at dawn

although monkey see,
etc., fortunately none live
near coal power plants

adam eyeballed eve
trying hard to see right through
that magical leaf

it’s never too late,
assuming that you’ve got a
first-class time machine.

when the game of life
is played the biggest losers
lose permanently

god loves you, pilgrim.
having said that, what’s up on
tv this evening?

let your counselor
choose your path. that can be your
excuse later on.

i prayed daily
then hourly but it turns out
god’s got a firewall

everyone gets the
the last moment but nobody
gets to describe it

if you think it’s just
that time again, you’ll just do
the same thing again.

endless love: two sinks
in the bathroom upstairs, both
used at the same time

man’s only hunger
isn’t food, which is why we’re in
the mess we’re in now.

speak the word three times,
they said. it’ll be yours for life.
murder, he said, thrice.

rooster soup, the king
favorite dish, his downfall.
death by poisoned comb.

beijing blue sky days
prompt rapturous poetry,
widespread nostalgia

one breast slightly too
large, a tough operation,
a perfect evening

just go with it and
that means screaming at the top
of your lungs is fine

they all succeeded
except you, sir laid back. snooze
you lose. stop smiling.

in the animal
world if you’re a loser you’re
also somebody’s meal

the good old black and
gold, my team back when i had
my life before me

fox in the hen house
party monster who does not
play well with others

man domesticates.
cats and dogs around the house,
numbers in bar codes.

like a box turtle
threatened he pulled his head down
when i kissed his lips

love broke my heart, fixed
it again, broke it, fixed it.
love, all-purpose tool.

wrinkle vanisher
i look years and years younger
with my clothes still on

let us dance while we still
can, and deny while we still
can, and then get drunk

as an icon i fear
iconoclasts, the bored,
and obscurity.

how could you eat those
twinkies in front of me when
i’m on this diet

can’t be deja vu
can’t be the same this time if
i’m about to die

ascending into
obscene riches, descending
into decadence

life is war said the kid
who spent his days at his wii
and didn’t have a life

the sands of time run
through the glass and once they’re through
my egg is boiled

when a dog is an
underdog in a fight with
a cat it’s just sad

i inspected her
for any aspect of virtue
before undressing

satan’s little imps
await instruction, faced
with this world of sin

daughter of a witch
her idiosyncratic
behavior suits her

once again, a fight
escalated rapidly,
turning into war.

rain clouds in the west
gray-white mountains in the air
turn black in their heart

do dogs and cats feel
nostalgic, or just sense some
good lost from the past

the fundraising drive
will drag on for weeks but he’s
never gonna give

give light room and it
scatters, spreading, thinning, and
the dark settles in

i am a liar
i have to be because there
is little hope here

mankind had a chance
knew better but didn’t take it
and then it was gone

the sun comes up once,
at the planet’s dawn start of
the revolution

gray morning headache
remnant of last night along
with this new tattoo

mallard ducks will eat
premium saltines as the
crackers float along

i’ll do it later,
he thought, and he thought, too late
now, when later came

steamy expression
she looks so so hot but she’s
got a cold shoulder

wood grain steering wheel
custom leather seats and a
full silvery moon

snake with a cold finds
a mousenest full of babies, this
reptile’s noodle soup

silent forest where
a trembling leaf foretells the
coming violence

i have not gargled
in years. should i be concerned
or leave my throat be?

please specify your
race so that we can judge you
appropriately

watching not doing,
speaking not thinking, we’re all
present not living

mother nature’s words
of wisdom in a language
we have forgotten

rich beyond measure
beware complacency lest
your income decline

name the love of your
life to define how happy
or sad that life was

around the campfire
at the dude ranch, buffalo
wings, smores, good red wine

a secret’s lie is
that somehow truth matters more
than its twin, fiction

mine has digital
display and “burst of steam.” i
win the iron battle.

owl, mouse’s hated
neighbor, invited himself
over for dinner.

a traffic snafu
killed him. then st. peter couldn’t
find his name listed.

west of the pillars
of hercules, a whirlpool
sucks down sailing ships

sand from sea to sea,
a column of gold in a
dune all that is left.

which animal might
drunk blunder into at night
a dry cactus patch?

ocean paradise.
warm sand, breakers thump, alone.
the world as it was.

he is the problem,
not his guns, money, pimples,
or bad recipes

in the house of night
stars filling the prairie sky
god remains silent

his caper is to
caper about while using
capers in a sauce

smallish meteor
dropped into the ocean. its
wave engulfed new york.

A real cutie. Before the accident.
(Six-word story)

well before sunrise
this nightmare child for certain
is up for the day

the cat rock steady
crouched and focused on the bird
well his ears do twitch

out of jail at last
back working in the cane fields
his sallow skin tanned

nature goes bankrupt
the sun doesn’t come up or some
sad equivalent

nature provides man
with insufficient instincts
about tomorrow

any southern comfort
other than whiskey for this
non-white visitor?

muggy morning sun
crossing to golden temple
a water taxi

more hate fate
than love it
(six-word poem)

down in the canyon
for afternoon tea we had
nuts and spring water

three deer standing on
the curb, waiting for a break
in heavy traffic.

sporadic bouts of
joy and terror smoothed to
a gray hum by pills

the revelations
end when enlightenment comes.
then it gets boring.

fear is a gift from
nature that man can mute. let’s
watch the tsunami.

winter past, now the
weather spurs new life, new growth,
but not for the old.

empty the garbage
we need to start some new dumps
in the countryside

see what man has done
to the planet and think oh
god please never this

we’re going down on
him, the god, to bring back the
summer, his good mood.

nature’s most caustic
substance: spousal vitriol
occasioned by rage.

she was dancing flame.
the red spotlights lit up each
time she hit the pole.

the exigent seen
from afar appears insane
when the race is gone

first time out  of the
city, first impressions: lots
of space, lots of trees.

first be remembered,
then you can worry about
being forgotten.

it comes from within,
hot, sulfurous, spreading, to
dissipate without.

wind from the northeast,
stiff, bitter, insistent, dry,
on a cloudless day.

lots of animals
eat crickets, including man,
but crickets sing on.

a ham is pressed best
with jeans not all the way down,
but framing the cheeks.

undercover in
the battle of the sexes,
he/she infiltrates.

hummingbirds, flighty,
don’t walk. neither do penguins,
who waddle. i pace.

taste it first. when you
swallow, it’s gone forever.
unless it repeats.

all matter in the
universe, multiplied by
time, and i pop out.

if i knew myself
like you know me, probably
i’d hate myself too.

dodos are extinct,
but what about me? before
long, i’ll be extinct.

owl eyes are about
prey. owlish eyes signify
you aren’t a birdbrain.

god doesn’t blame you to
your face. feel your guilt and hear
his silent assent.

for the ants, what is
an extravagance? it’s no
different for man.

terns migrating, pole
to pole, the distance between
my husband and me.

go ahead and blow
up the world. later, you can
blow up heaven too.

satin water warm
as her skin, let wilderness
wash the city off her.

regular dog eat
dog; vegetarian dog
eat meatless hot dog

caravan winds through
tall dunes, trade beginning to
shrink the world for us

complimentary
kisses from an angel or
some sort of large hawk

hire inspire admire
wire desire require perspire
tire mire misfire fire

three out of four of
my current wives tell me i’m
living a false life

sunrise, noon, sunset.
when it’s over, a day is
god’s small metaphor.

describe a color.
bore me with quantum mechanics.
thrill me with poetry.
or vice versa.

mary and the gas man
were doing great until her
spouse came home oily.

the brontosaurus,
sixteen metric tons. the ears?
nothing between them.

my phone ringing in
the woods sounds like a chainsaw
to scare off the bears

this appliance is
plastic, sir. the repair shop
for it is the dump.

so long as you both
shall live, anything could happen,
whatever your vows.

bedraggled birds on
stormy wire. rain and wind. men
waiting at the curb.

thinking hurts my head
talking doesn’t solve anything
crying makes it worse

the good ole days, when
the good ole boys could handle
the earth any ole way.

raspberry chiggers,
rose thorns, a handsome man with
fearsomely bad breath.

implosions collect.
explosions scatter. nature
casually sorts.

gentle winter rain
puddling in old snow. black birds,
slick feathers gleaming.

four beers and poor lighting,
i find my prince. morning sun,
in my bed, a frog.

strip mine the earth and
clear cut the forests and some
bruising will occur

mom is glad you stayed
but sad you were utterly
wasted the whole time

around the farm all
the fields and woods are gone and
they’re not coming back

at the heart of true
despair lies understanding,
which doesn’t cure the pain.

fergit it if it’s
legit. life’s too short to walk
a slow honest path.

it doesn’t hurt if i
don’t think about it. i think
about it a lot.

matter jitters slow
below freezing, with nature
pretending to die.

cats, dogs, and humans
exist in a room sparse in
nature’s furnishings.

pressure drop presages
storm, skies graying. Shoulders draw
up on field workers.

he writes these in third
person. he’s a really
awesomely great guy.

the kardashians.
kim il un. krispy kremes. it’s
a colorful world.

back again, back-to-
back back-outs, ever the same. he’s
in, he’s out, he’s through.

politicians make
sausage. nature too decides
by grinding all things.

pardon me, sir, but
you are standing on my throat,
and the sun has set.

forget “wet the bed.”
a popular, trendy sports phrase
now is “poop the bed.”

as we walk and the
bad dog charges, let it be
me he tries to bite.

a walk in the woods
or action movie? really,
dude, are you kidding?

extinct, stuck somewhere
in the tar pits, he’s a real
california star.

touching soft pink forms,
i’m floating, weightless, needy,
but still not divorced.

my kidneys have shut
down. no pain. long shadows stretch
across a strange land.

loving you is like
running across the freeway
naked at rush hour

we first thought they were
sky lanterns, not the poisoned
air itself, burning

want to thrive? learn to
live in the city, like deer,
fox, coon, coyote.

impatient behind
the wheel, he then ended up
behind the eight ball

complete darkness comes
to the spirit when it loses
all lightness of being

inflexible rule.
you can’t bend it, so break it.
it’s bound to be wrong.

come find me in the
woods, on the mountain, in the
sea, while i’m still there.

the bulletproof heart.
safe house or prison? humans
need to be human.

mighty tasty, say
the spider, vulture, human.
de gustibus, etc.

technology both
obscures and reveals the world
of nature to man

new holiday hours
now open for business
twenty-four seven

Open your eyes. Take a
breath. Settle. Feel the breeze and
the sun on your face.

cuddle up with your
new electronic device
and learn about life

nature’s wordless poems,
recited daily by wind,
sun, clouds, and shadow

out of beans, forced to
serve instant, my shame drove me
to poison my guests

the cliff edge won’t last
but it will outlast you if
you decide to jump

god won’t like me when
he finds me in heaven. the
hare hides from the wolf.

elementary
particles aren’t. nor are the
particles’ pieces.

that guy cut me off.
lightning splits a mountain tree.
fire burns the slope clean.

first on my list of
promises: before sunrise
i’ll face east and wait

coming soon, a long
summer. a longgggg  summer. both
hemispheres at once.

repetition? sure,
to learn. but remember, you
can’t repeat your life.

duz preposteruz
blue fuzz make you nervuz, like
cuz wuz, or nonpluzd?

i pretend that i
get lost in her eyes and try
not to look lower

weekly marathons,
an emergency service
for some obsessives.

rose, holly, iris,
tansy, dahlia. forget
me not, buttercup.

my husbands fight me,
thinking they’re so big and tough,
but i’m the mantis.

they try to make it
rain but the rain never falls.
droughts have no rainbows.

homer’s wine dark sea
pristine aegean of the greeks
petroleumized

mob rule, unity
of intent, whatever, it’s
togetherness time

ordinarily
our homeostatic state
shields us from what’s real

surly snowman has
a right. his girl got climate-
changed into snowmelt.

may your soul live on
for all of eternity,
or half of it, say.

the toaster raises
his glass and speaks, hopes and wishes,
not facts, tumbling out.

the dream of a death
awakens me glad for this
quick death of a dream

everyone has an
accent and a skin color.
and a prejudice?

it was a struggle
but i made it, admired by
life’s rubberneckers.

he read it slowly,
the geologist, earth’s book
of fire, ice, and time.

i’m wounded, he said.
but not in your heart, she said.
lower, in your pants.

man, toxic, lies prone.
earth lies prone, its chemical
bright colors lying.

little victories,
big defeats. rainfall ceases,
the puddles dry up.

forest sounds on tape
playing high above the city
on the ninety-ninth floor

bereft, he laughs, daft,
and crafts a muffed raft, miffed, and
hefts his haft abaft.

you told me and told
me and i didn’t hear. then you
stopped, and that I heard.

swaybacked old mattress,
ticking stained by countless nights
of love’s wet result.

spread it out with care
because too thick or too spare
creates brown and bare

it was alcohol,
not my precious free will, that
made me self destruct.

eternal darkness,
eternal light, or god’s hit
one-time-only display?

return to the dust
your mind, body, transforming them
into the future.

angel lives on the street
in a tough neighborhood,
a lion on the veldt.

birds of prey fly in
balance on mother earth, while
mankind tips the scales.

the scar on the earth
signals our deep excisions,
to exploit, not heal.

age with grace, not rage,
for our sake, though the final
result cannot change.

try to understand
yourself, please, before you try
to understand me

Luke’s lewd lurid lust
lured Luna. Lupine, lying,
thus laying the lass.

alone, love, like you,
night ocean restless beneath
my rolling wood boat.

lin o’leum, my friend.
all the kids teased him most
abominably.

a pound of feathers
weighs the same as a pound of
iron, they say. no way.

my exquisite blood
hasn’t changed much since monkey times,
unlike my brain size.

if the gun goes off,
hold me accountable. it’s
my right to goof up.

she got the drop on
my heart but despite my hopes,
didn’t pull the trigger.

the human race, at
end times, still had never guessed
what that end would be.

no need to make time
for the end. death will cancel
all your appointments.

uh oh. crunching sounds
at the movie and not on
the screen. beside me.

make the guy love you?
save yourself the trouble cause
it don’t work that way.

if you like kinky
don’t wait till your honeymoon
to tell your new spouse

laundry detergent
or in other words a box
of scented clothes soap

frustrated attempts
frustrate human beings but
not bugs, time, or death.

sweat tears blood shine, yellow
metal fender fading to
gray as the sun sets.

the human race is
in disgrace for screwing up
the planet, our home.

thirty-three cents each
to mail postcards. used to be
only a penny.

most call it love but
with all the pain, it’s just a
bad heart condition

is it amnesia
when, aged, I forget so many
moments in my life?

i make clocks so i
named the kids tick & tock. now
it’s all digital.

borrow it. keep it.
the genii’s been gone ten years.
my three wishes? stunk!

make no bones about

it. he’s a bag of bones but
he has made his bones.

when hubby starts to
solemnly swear, it’s time to
kick him out of there.

marriage? no way jose.
he’s kissable, otherwise
quite dismissable.

the winners rewrite
history so don’t believe
what my ex-wife says

what would make a man
make a moue? perhaps a strong
pickle or a slight?

warning: shade eyes when
blast occurs, signaling man’s
end on this planet.

the opossum is
an opportunist. also,
it’ll play opossum.

the next time around,
knowing me, will be the same
as last time around

an alternative
to sex – eating too much, say -
can cause the same shape

one word more or less
can make a big difference
in a short poem glorp

yes neanderthals
made apple pie, fossils of
which have just been found

i’d love for someone
in here to be nice to me
just one goddamn time

unhappy childhood?
just live long enough and you’ll
get a second one.

within our bodies
unknown to us chemistry
invents consciousness

when an obsession
hides within a preference
free will disappears

fix this nix to tix
to view pix of six kix in
the mix at fort dix

bit of cigarette
tobacco stuck on the lip
seldom seen these days

my girlfriend’s name is
iunne. that predicted some
ennui right up front.

when disease arrived
my trusted body changed and is
now this battlefield

almost… almost there
so close don’t stop oh my god
did the earth just move

the brown and black bear
are not related, unlike
the brown and black man

obscure oracles
databases that predict
and hide in smartphones

a bare-bones approach
to humor: make a face, fart,
and fall on your prat.

the consequences
of our modern life now loom
perhaps to end all

cricket sounds as i
walk for miles and miles at night.
that’s how many bugs?

my illusion of
self control disappeared when
i bit his mustache

she said we were through
but what hurt most was that she
finished with a wink

the sister wives have
a rotating schedule for
all their many duties

lost. at sea with my
thoughts. what should i do with all
this vacation time?

i write to praise… what?
i knew a minute ago…
oh yes. yeah. right. weed!

when it’s too soon for
trust to have grown, a leap of
faith might be needed.

given enough rope,
failure ensues. it is the
human condition.

Sleepless, eyes shut in
the dark. Lying with eyes open
isn’t natural.

this is home improvement:
remodel four bedrooms and
get rid of husband

I do the laundry,
hang it with clothespins on the
line in the sunshine.

all my hopes blasted
by that blasted fire, now i’ll
just go get blasted.

in the forest, lost,
cold, the trees indifferent,
rooted, mute, waiting.

my new wife blows like
a welcome breeze through this house
so lately storm-wracked

i wanted to spill
the beans but not break a heart
so i bit my lip

i took a spill the
other day while cycling fast.
i flew free, birdlike.

my island fever
struck five years in. beautiful
beaches drive me nuts

anger is a shout,
a fist, a blow, a slammed door,
love turned upside down.

there’s no either or
nor no neither nor neither
here. just what is, is.

what’s the oldest thing
you can see? is it starlight
from the edge of space?

my father left me
a surfeit of gilt-edged bonds
but no memories

the taste of lettuce
can it call memory like
proust’s madeleine

do the one percent
carry a lunch box to work
full of food treasure?

such pain so much hurt
my heart holds a bitter love
only death can cure

Man Tries To Throw Wife Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police

[Headline, Huffington Post]

I wasn’t trying to throw my wife off the bridge. I was trying to strangle her. Then I was going to throw her off.

Our marriage has been troubled.

If I just threw her off, the drop wasn’t going to hurt her and I couldn’t depend on the gators to finish the job. Look at me. They only got one foot, one hand, and half a buttock.

If I had thrown Agnes off alive, I’d have her stumping around the house on one foot now, trying to cook and clean with one hand and unable to sit and rest without pain. She would have been unbearable! Not that she isn’t anyway.

I explained all this to the police. So did Agnes. They understood that the whole affair was an accident. Or a failure, from my perspective. But Huffington’s stringer down here, Audet Duplessis, covers a thousand square miles of swamp and bayou and and you can’t tell her anything. Which is why I arranged to meet her on the bridge later, to give her a blow by blow recreation of the events that had transpired.

I tried to strangle her and took my second trip down into the drink. That’s how I lost another half-buttock, my car keys, my eye glasses, and one ear.

How do you keep your new glasses on without an ear? i haven’t figured that one out yet.

And yet, here comes the next Huffington Post headline.

“Man Tries To Throw Reporter Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police”

She knew I was trying to strangle her. What else did she mean at the time when she said, “Ggggggggggggggg!”

I’ll give Audet this. She came out there with me again when I promised to behave. And then here comes the next headline.

“Man Tries To Throw Self Off Bridge, Instead Falls Himself: Police”

37 Things In Your Home To Get Rid Of Right Now

[Headline, Huffington Post]

1. Anything dead that you aren’t going to eat.

2. Anything that will incriminate you or other family members in a felony.

3. The thing farthest back in the ice box.

4. The monster under the bed.

5. The dust bunnies (aka “slut’s wool”) under the bed.

6. Uncle Charlie.

7. Great-grandma Myrtle

8. Broken glass on the floor, especially in front of the sink and around the toilet.

9. Any chair that no one has sat on over the past year.

10. Make that the past, oh, six months.

11. The contents of any drawer unopened in the past five years.

12. Glassware from the very back of the top kitchen shelf.

13. Spices you’ve never used, such as epazote, fenugreek, and machalepi.

14. All those wedding gifts stored in the attic.

15. Bottles of alcoholic products with less than a quarter-inch of fluid in the bottom.

16. Hair in the bathroom sink and tub. Once it has fallen out, it’s of no further use to you.

17. Any homeless people living on or about your premises without your knowledge or permission, although you don’t want to be a meany about it. Perhaps sit down with them for a cup of coffee or a cocktail, discuss their situation, see what you can work out. Try to make it win/win. Maybe they can babysit your newborn infant, for example.

18. Speaking of newborn infants, don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater, ha ha.

19. Old hair nets.

20. Unmatched socks. Be ruthless.

21. Solved rebuses.

22. Solved mazes.

23. Solved crossword puzzles.

24. Those annoying unsolved interlocking iron rings.

25. Any toilet brushes with the bristles worn down to nubbins.

26. Engine blocks in the garage, if you’re absolutely sure that you’re not going to go ahead and rebuild them.

27. Used motor oil.

28. Dead batteries.

29. All those spare vacuum tubes in a shoebox in the closet.

30. Anything tangled that you’ll probably never untangle.

31. Anything broken that you’ll probably never fix.

32. Something that you’ve always hated but nobody else in the house does. Take it out in the dead of night, whatever it is, and smash it to flinders. Spend a few minutes gloating over the remains.

33. Whoa. Don’t let #32 get out of hand there.

34. It’s time to start looking at your personal situation. Why are you relying on us to tell you what  to do? We’re not your mother!. You’ll notice that “Take out the trash” isn’t on this list. Did you do it? No? You’re hopeless!

35. That picture on the wall in the living room… No, the other one… Do the world a favor. Burn it.

36. You listen to Rush Limbaugh? Throw out all of your radios.

37. Go out on the front porch, turn around, step back inside, and begin grabbing objects one by one as you encounter them. Carry or push each one to the door and chuck it out onto the porch… Jeez, you’re doing it! I was just kidding. You really are impossible.

Florida woman, 81, arrested for feeding bears lots of dog food

[Headline, Huffington Post]

Feed a bear a can of dog food for lunch and the bear is hungry again at dinnertime.

Teach a bear to hunt down, kill, and eat a dog and the bear… well, it’s still hungry again at dinnertime.

But you don’t have to keep opening cans of dog food for it! The bear is self-sufficient! It can go out and kill a dog and eat it without you picking up a can opener. Is that so hard to understand?

But look. Once all the dogs are gone, all you’ve got left is cans of dog food. And a lot of hungry bears. If you don’t feed the bears, because they can’t open the cans for themselves, what with having paws instead of hands, whom do you think the bears are going to eat next? People! When my electric can opener broke, I was damned lucky to come out of it alive!

This all started when the highway patrol pulled me over with a truckload of dogs.

“Do you need all those dogs?” said the patrolman.

“Does a bear poop in the woods?” I said.

You see, the whole misunderstanding came about because of the ambiguity inherent in the words “dog food.” After my close calls with the cans, I decided to eliminate the middleman and just give the bears dog food, i.e., food made out of dogs, i.e., what I said above. Only, when the dog population waned, I had to start trucking them in.

This seemed easier than teaching the gators to eat the bears.

While in the pokey, I did figure out how to handle this bear situation. It’s so simple! Teach the bears to open the cans of dog food!

If you’ve ever watched the My Little Pony shows, you know that animals without hands can still manipulate just about anything. Flutterfly and Pinkie Pie always use a toothbrush at bedtime, for example. I’ve seen them do it. They hold the brush with their little hooves somehow.

Also, when you’re planning to live with the bears (not the Care Bears, ha ha!): get married, so that if you do run into a situation where the bears are going to eat a human, you’ll have one handy.

Man forced to have enemas gets $1.6M

[CNN headline]

I got the $1.6 million, so I guess I can say a word or two on the subject.

What is the main point here? What have we learned?

Have you ever received an award of  $1.6 million? No? Then shut your pizza-hole!

What we have learned here is, and forget the taxes, that’s a whole different conversation, what we have learned here is, what can you get for $1.6 million?

I know what you can get for  $1.6 million. Not much. In Silicon Valley, you can’t buy a  doghouse for $1.6 million. $1.6 million isn’t squat. You spend it and it’s gone and you’re no happier than you were before the enemas.

What I mean is, an enema, you’re outraged, you’re uncomfortable, they tell you to hold it, hold it, hold it, until you’re like, really? More? What are we waiting for here? What is this, a contest? Book of world records? Just let me sit on the pot for chrissakes! I’m a grown man!

Then you get your $1.6 million and go out and look at the big houses. The mansions in town. It’s expected. You’re holding  $1.6 million, what are you going to do? Open a savings account at .002% interest? No, you’re supposed to buy a damn mansion.

But around here with the young techies, you can whistle for a mansion,  all the chance you’re going to get one. Go find six bedrooms with separate baths, a nice pool, servant quarters. For your piddling  $1.6 million, maybe you get the quarters.What I mean is, an enema, you’re outraged, you’re uncomfortable, they tell you to hold it, hold it, hold it, until you’re like, really? More? What are we waiting for here? What is this, a contest? Book of world records? Just let me sit on the pot for chrissakes! I’m a grown man!

Then you get your $1.6 million and go out and look at the big houses. The mansions in town. It’s expected. You’re holding  $1.6 million, what are you going to do? Open a savings account at .002% interest? No, you’re supposed to buy a damn mansion.

But around here with the young techies, you can whistle for a mansion,  all the chance you’re going to get one. Go find six bedrooms with separate baths, a nice pool, servant quarters. For your piddling  $1.6 million, maybe you get the quarters.

Now I’m back in, going for another $1.6 million. I’m getting better at holding it.

 

Swearing toddler taken into custody

[Huffington Post headline]

What the fuck? Hey, I can walk, asswipe!

Stop calling it toddling. and get your filthy meathooks off me!  Son of a bitch! Pedophile!

Where’s my mom, motherfucker? Yeah, I still nurse. What’s it to you, hornbag? Nurse on this!

I grab one extra piece of motherfucking birthday cake and Jamie’s mom shits a brick. Who am I, Curious George? What a cunt. If my mom was like that, I’d shoot the bitch.

Alright. You don’t care? Unnngggg. Nnggg. There. Right in my motherfucking pants.! Enjoy the smell.

Hey, pussface. I’m a min-or. You put me in there with these drunk druggie faggots and I will ream you out. I will eat your ‘nads. Yes, bro, I will fuck you up.

Fine. Slam that door. When I get out of here, I will stick my foot so far up your ass, a croc will come out your earhole. I will stab you in the eye with my Barbie. I will dig up Mister Rogers, cut off his head, and leave it at the foot of your motherfucking bed. Clown-turd.

Oh, hi, Mom. School was ok and so was the birthday party. What’s for dinner tonight?

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