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-- word biscuit --
-- discounted thoughts edition --
-- ray heinrich --
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don't his paws look a bit big for a toy poodle?
-ray
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< thought you were there >
lying beneath the tree
with summer
fleeing brightly
- - -
< dog woke me up >
laughing at a dream
squirrels, meat, chocolate
it's always food with him
mine was an old girlfriend
her way
when she had a cold
of sticking a finger in her nose
scooping out a big blob
and flicking it at me
- - -
< so why she asks >
but i am too busy watching the movie
to turn my head
(90 degrees at most)
to watch
her face
- - -
< dear mom >
the living room
the kitchen
the bathroom
the bedroom
the piles
have piles
so i guess i've got your genes
but how did my wife get your genes?
all of them
in the closet
needing washing
- - -
< first day of life >
long ago it's the first day of life
and later that day
i'm escaping a dream
with my lover of 30 years
and carol, and kathy, and jane, and phillip, and lynne,
and stephie who's piloting fedex planes,
and avril who's dead but shouldn't be,
and micheal who's dead but really isn't,
and all the rest of you people
all here
all with me
- - -
< all we need is a dinosaur to try it on >
you said
(and i thought you were joking)
- - -
< listening too slow >
"have you taken your medicine?"
she says
"you're talking too fast again"
"you're listening too slow"
i say
(knowing she's right)
- - -
< soaking in the watts >
my battery
snug
in your charger
- - -
< two red clocks >
ticking their tocks
chanting their vows
with tiny mouths...
singing
in the songs of seconds
voicing
in the minute's dance
speaking
of the hour's progression
daring
in the day's good dance
these red clocks
their double-A's
(both Duracell and bunny)
conflicted smiles upon their face
watching
find us funny
spinning in the summer sun
creeping through the winter
with brethren they wait patiently
for time and thoughts
to splinter
- - -
< catching death >
is hard
takes years
- - -
< cheeseburger >
hold my pickle
in your lettuce
special orders
don't upset us
slide my meat
into your bun
what mayonaise!
when we are done
- - -
< pictures of us 10/12/79 >
eating at taco bell
fucking on the shag carpet
- - -
< self-titled >
arrow's sling or idle pup
these words
proceed
to eat us up
opalescence
or opaqueness
textuality
or Texas
eucharis
or eucalyptus
cute koala
or Korea
we (that's us)
with mouths of lust
speaking on as if it's just
to say
we will
(yet mean)
we must
- - -
< a pad of watercolor paper >
empty
waitlng
grandmother's
- - -
< an exaggeration of bees >
buzzing the distance
singing to a flower
over a mile away
- - -
< she was dreaming of cigarettes >
a small cloud
easing out of her
- - -
< three dead boys >
with their bloodied heads
singing sacred somethings
weeping in their meds
filled with fearful fractions
those jim's and bob's and ted's
- - -
< epoxy >
mix equal parts
fast
(it's the 5 minute stuff)
stiffening
hardening before we have time
time
that delicious traveling time
that dancing effervescent time
time
ticking its tock of us
clicking the clock on us
tickling the mock of us
winking its knock on us
sprinkling its rock on us
grey, white, and granite
parts of the planet
those molecules of dirt and jewels
bearing us
on backs of mules
oh
we have been such fools...
- - -
< black scorpions >
under my covers
big as lobsters
at night
close to my toes
(note:
must stop reading Burroughs
when low on meds)
- - -
< i remember the deconstruction >
watching the screws
undo themselves
my cordless drill
lonely
at my feet
- - -
< just listen to the rain >
this gun is harmless
but it's bullet isn't
it's not the rain
it's the drops
while i am silent
my words have hopes
- - -
< keeping promises >
of the dead
so here i am
holding ashes
and wondering
where to cast them
i'd join you
but the dog
needs feeding
- - -
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subscription info:
if you're not a registered subscriber and would like to
receive 'word biscuit' really, really irregularly
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like yes to: ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and don't forget gift
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and that boss you really hate.
back issues can be found at:
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legal notes:
all registered subscribers to 'word biscuit' have my
permission to publish any individual poem or poems
contained within it (or the whole dang thing if you
get to feeling like it) so long as you obtain no
commercial or barter considerations in exchange for
such copies, it's not part of any pro-republican campaign
literature, and you do it within two years of its original
publication date. anything else requires my permission
which might be obtained (depending on the mood i'm in)
by writing to me at: ray@wordbiscuit.com -- and yes,
i love it every time someone is amused enough to make
copies and send them to friends, pass them out on street
corners, read them in coffeehouses, or wrap them in a
good, honest fish.
stock bio:
ray heinrich is an ex-texas technofreak and hippie-socialist
wannabe who lives on the outskirts of washington d.c.
he writes poems for thrills and attention. over the years
his work has appeared in many small, insignificant publications
both in and out of cyberspace. in real life he fools with
computers, has always been married, loves dogs, remembers
a BLUE fish and four BRONZE frogs, and has taken to planting
some wild grass seeds in various places around a forest where
all his loves and desires reside.
copyright notice:
all this is copyright 2005 by ray heinrich and the free
state of dogs. comments are VERY welcome (send to:
ray@wordbiscuit.com ), ALWAYS read and LOVED as proof
that someone out there acknowledges my existence, but
not always responded to which is a greedy, selfish act
on my part which i seem to keep committing but at least
i'm not wearing any pants and the shirt i used to say i
was wearing had a quote on it from noam chomsky and some
chew marks left on it by a small, obstinate poodle who
was curled up, sleeping, resting his head on my feet a
few minutes ago but is now upstairs barking at a squirrel
and now he's back and now, a month later, he's back again
and now, another month later, he's upstairs barking cause
he wants me to come up and walk him which i'll have to do
so i'll be back in a minute, well, it's been a month and
he's watching the baby raccoons again and there's no living
with him until they stop catching and eating the moths on
the screen door and you'd think they'd be scared of him
but no they're just ignoring us and two months later
they're lots bigger and we finally got some rain and three
months after that it's finally getting cold except for
my happy feet beneath a warm and still obstinate poodle
and more months later he's asleep in the other room and
my feet are cold and i have every intention of getting
up and doing something about this but not quite yet and
even more months later he's started up a .com with Ilane
to sell virtual cat and mouse jerky and a little more than
a month later he's back having burned out on e-business
and ready to get back to barking at anything that moves
which, months later, is a five foot king snake that thinks
it's warmer in here than outside and i grab the poodle
before he can chew on it and try to catch it but having
warmed up in the house it's REALLY fast so i explain to
it that it's welcome and all but i'm not about to feed it
so it will just have to fend for itself and, by the way,
watch out for the poodle and if you should ever get up
to massachusetts, say hi to Ilane for me and four years
later the damned poodle is even worse but likes to lay
his head on my feet again and three months later he's
chewed up my wallet again, but this time he not only
got my credit cards (they were all maxed out anyway)
but $25 in cash which i'm now trying to piece together
all the while thinking that life must be a metaphor
for something that only the dog knows.
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