______________________________________________________________ -- word biscuit -- -- dog fart edition -- 08-19-97 -- ray heinrich ______________________________________________________________ it happens, -ray < simple gesture > so the end of day takes us some of us gray clouds and such laid out before us we eat the fingers of children too naive to know and later we exchange a look a letter oh we know how to make this into entertainment as our poor flesh drops all our sorrows and questions we caught the unknown the unexpected while we tried to talk to someone next to us to find our answer in a simple gesture of flesh - - - < life is its own metaphor > this cow on the other hand just shit on my foot - - - < a pig in shit > i was as happy as a pig in shit when i yelled at you to get your shit together when i said that you had shit for brains when i could tell you to eat shit and die when i could go ape shit over your holy shit like a pig in shit but as they say shit happened shit hit the fan and you got off the pot and left me up this creek without a paddle - - - < made in china > i'm practicing my Chinese in a K-Mart i'm translating labels as i come to them this shirt says it was made in China by people who believed in free speech and made the mistake of saying so and this pair of pants was hand-crafted in China by a woman who mentioned Tiananmen square and these socks were produced in China by a man who is gay or maybe he's Christian my Chinese really isn't that good and this toy was assembled in China by someone it could have been anyone who lived in Tibet - - - < the roach and the tampon > you don't EVER want to hear this story - - - < doing my part > i chainsaw republicans into thin strips that when dried make excellent jerky treats for my dog - - - < the night > our temple well hardly a temple but it gives us shade and the desert and the sun and the day are what you'd expect but the night... - - - < interior decorating > this poem is a lonely room a bare room these words are it's only furniture this poem is an empty room i'm trying to fill with the furniture of these words this poem is an empty room i'm trying to furnish with these words well... no matter how i move them around it needs you coming in the door - - - < dog farts > a few years back we had a little brown poodle koko (named after the cartoon clown) now our black lab could fart large it took him thirty seconds to lay one down but koko was queen her tiny ones had the strength of nerve gas their smell made people jump up and run away it wasn't something they thought about but a reflex like jerking your hand off a hot stove one moment you'd be sitting and reading and the next you'd be across the room wondering what happened (until your nose caught up with you) - - - < too much about faces > too much about faces too much you keep saying you never meant to pour the hot coffee on me and my skin is red like sunburn in galveston the gulf coast and texas in your eyes and each of us can touch the scars we made or maybe slap it all depends on how we feel that day and why we'd ever want to do this well too much about faces - - - < i lied about the frogs > a frog turns gold in the sun in the hot sun a frog turns gold a frog rubbed gold by the sun watching the sun make gold frogs frogs in the sun frogs in the pond unless it moves a frog doesn't give a shit hot gold frogs shitting in the sun a gold sun frogs me in the pond there are no frogs no sun no pond just words well... i lied about the frogs of course there're frogs - - - < writing > Doing it a lot makes it easier to say what you're saying but of course you still need a what and when you begin to get those working you start feeling you have to say it to someone and then more than one and if you do all that you're not happy with it anyway and you end up dying at about the same time so it's probably better to go feed the dog and not get bitten but if you were that sensible you wouldn't have started in the first place and besides it doesn't take that much time to feed the dog. - - - < in this poem the protagonist shoots himself > bang - - < resolution > suicide as a diversion from remembering to renew your driver's license we got together on the anniversary as he shot from a distance but still managed as the head exploded caught on film no worries about suicide here no dreams of resolution like driving over a laptop computer while it does your income tax - - - < ashes > excuse means some small word said turning gone walking all these scenes repeated ashes i keep eating them - - - < blood > i'm trying to get beyond the necessity of its flow trying to leave its constant run and linger on the red my closed eye sees when looking at the sun - - - < sweet passage > it was waiting undiscovered waiting for me to find a bright door a sweet passage to you - - - _______________________________________________________________ if you know someone (yourself too) who would like to get word biscuit irregularly (of course it's free), just send an email saying something like yes to: ray@scribbledyne.com all registered subscribers to 'word biscuit', have my permission to post or publish this entire issue, or any individual poem contained within it, so long as you obtain no commericial or barter considerations in exchange for such copies, it's not part of any pro-republican campaign literature, and you do it within one year of its publication date. anything else requires my permission which may be obtained by writing to me at: 'ray@scribbledyne.com'. back issues can be found at: http://wordbiscuit.com/ all this is copyright 1997 by ray heinrich and the free state of dogs. comments are VERY welcome, send to: ray@scribbledyne.com and i'm not wearing any pants. _______________________________________________________________ end back