NaPoWriMo 5/30 Radical Cheers for Radical Consent

Cheering for Consent

from a great late night conversation with my coworker Grace Gordon, who is working on a presentation for a conference on Radical Consent. After that conversation, I dreamed of writing cheers for consent…

She didn’t say yes?
Then it’s rape!
Too afraid to say no?
Then it’s rape!
Too drunk to say yes?
Then it’s rape!

Ask consent!
Get consent!
Check consent!

it’s the only true way to be SEXY!

At a party high and drunk
now she says Rape – who’d a thunk?
Well, you claim, she didn’t say no.
But if she couldn’t say yes off to jail you go!


NaPoMo 6 – Words in My World: NPR

Overheard on NPR today, the phrase “prosecute pedophile priests.” And who could not, in that moment of the alliterating P’s, hear this?

The Vatican protects a pack of pedophile priests
A pack of priestly pedophiles the Vatican protects.
If the Vatican protects a pack of pedophile priests,
How many Popes have preyed among the priestly pedophiles?

NaPoMo April 7 – notes toward a poem

and by “notes toward” I mean the ideas that may underlie a poem someday. I used to write just like this—have a deep-something-to-say, write it in short lines with rich language and be done. But that’s like scribbling some lyrics and claiming to have a song!

But poem-a-day is a difficult pace and often means “poem first draft a day.” Today’s poem first draft is historically based: on this date in 1927, the first city-to-city television broadcast occurred. Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover was in DC and his audience was in New York. After some moments of Profound Blather about the greatness of this tool, the real entertainment came on—a comedian in blackface. I think that the music of this poem wants to be a sonnet. Its got bits of rhythm going, and the internal turns and twists of a sonnet. We’ll see.

the transmission of sight, for the first time in the world’s history
(Herbert Hoover, opening statement of the first city-to-city television broadcast)

Proudly announced on the first television broadcast, D.C. to NYC
Directly after: a comedian in blackface
And so it goes
And so it’s gone ever since, blackface, womanface, childface,
redneck face, youcantrustmeface, with the transmission of sight
masks glued on, a new way to profit from prejudice so now
my country’s vicious idiocy can be spread
as capitalist-gospel truth
How I’d like to pretend language rises above that fray but
what language rises higher than billboards or blimps?
We make a new way to communicate, we make a new way to lie,
telling you a story and selling you a story just sweet
phonemic first cousins, truth a matter of road to hell,
good intentions, how arrogant we poets can be, complacently believing
we are somehow different from tv

A Little Ditty for Dancing with the Stars

A Little Ditty for Dancing with the Stars
Elliott batTzedek

You’re an asshole, Nancy Grace
I flinch when I see your accusatory face
or even your right breast, hanging out.
About your character I have no doubt,
for you called for the lynching of a disturbed young mother.
So I’d be afraid now, too, if I were your choreographer.

learning from the best – E. E. Cummings

from the brand-new collection erotic poems, edited by George Firmage, and containing an assortment of Cummings’ erotic drawings. I want to learn to write original, singing, sizzling sex poems, so am reading some of the best.


when i have thought of you somewhat too
much and am become perfectly and
simply Lustful….sense a gradual stir
of beginning muscle,and what it will do
to me before shutting….understand
i love you….feel your suddenly body reach
for me with a speed of white speech

(the simple instant of perfect hunger
how beautifully swims
the fooling world in my huge blood,
cracking brains A swiftlyenormous light
—and furiously puzzling through,prismatic,whims,
the chattering self perceives with hysterical fright

a comic tadpole wriggling in delicious mud

Timely Lyrics Wednesday

It’s one of THOSE days at work, and I found myself humming this Roches’ classic:

The Death of Suzzy Roche

I work in the laundromat
The one that Suzzy Roche
Does hers at
I hate her guts
She thinks I want her autograph

She’s got stinky crusty socks
She’s got underwear that shocks
O what a pig, she’s such a pig
I’d like to stick a turd in her mailbox

Some people really have a lot of nerve
Everywhere they go they think they
Should get served
Everybody in the laundromat is equal
Suzzy Roche

She hands me a ten dollar bill
Asks so sweetly if I will
Give her some change
I’d like to bang her head
Against a windowsill

She says the machine is broke
The way she loaded that thing is a joke
Broken machine, another broken machine
Now I’d really like to cut her throat

Some people. . .

She decides that she’s got to get out of there
Other people waiting but she don’t care
Cycle is through, her cycle is through
I took out her clothes and threw them everywhere

Boy was she mad when she got back
I said listen honey don’t give me no flack
Pick up your clothes, pick up your clothes
And when she did I stuck a knife right through her back

Some people. . .

Poem a day #24 Saturday Afternoon Nap

Saturday Afternoon Nap

beep beep beep
your oven is preheated you can cook now

beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep
your coffee is brewed and hot

your clothes are dry

beep beep beep
if you don’t make dinner you’ll be sorry

beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep
just how are you going to function without a second cup?

you wouldn’t want your clothes to wrinkle now would you?

beep beep beep
wasting energy will destroy the planet!

beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep
do you think I’m just sitting here waiting for you?

your work shirts are puckering! get down here now!
beep beep beep
is there a problem young lady?
beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep
I won’t keep this warm forever you know
I’m only going to warn you so many times
beep beep beep
beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep

Poem a day #19 “What do you want, Elliott?” she asks

“What do you want, Elliott?” she asks

bigger greater longer beyond

alive-with legion lavish vast
teeming myriad unbounded

as-well-as exceeding in-excess-of
furthermore likewise moreover withal

gobs heaps oodles scads
passel peck slew sky-high
lousy-with wads galore umpteen
jam-packed mucho jillion zillion

immoderate inordinate rife
overboard overkill enhanced undue

commodious copious profuse
exorbitant plenteous profligate
astronomically incalculably more

Dickinson, #330 He put the Belt around my life

from 1862, when she was writing a poem or more a day.

He put the Belt around my life—
I heard the Buckle snap—
And turned away, imperial,
My Lifetime folding up—
Deliberate, as Duke would do
A Kingdom’s Title Deed—
Henceforth—a Dedicated sort—
A Member of the Cloud—

Yet not too far to come at call—
And do the little Toils
That make the Circuit of the Rest—
And deal occasional smiles
To lives that stoop to notice mine—
and kindly ask it in—
Whose invitation, know you not
For Whom I must decline?