I’m Trying to Tell You

 

“…who gets to see

most sex organs in the world? Not

poets. With the hours they keep

they need drugs more than anyone.” - James Tate “On the Subject of Doctors”

 

Sunflower wine in everything these days.

Cookie crumbs go great will alcohol

as do cello concertos and wouldn’t you know it,

every poet has a handful of jazz musician friends.

What I mean, is that poems make good kindling;

sparks are verbs being ripped limb from limb

and they cost a helluva lot less than wood,

which used to be commonplace in Washington state,

like a boy dressed in flannel, like a narcoleptic

with a ready supply of pillows.

 

I’ve got a lot of verbs to burn, a lot of conjugation

to piss away in the wind. Been so long since I had

some home-cooked noodles. Any single girls you know

cook a mean pot of pasta? This time last year, I thought

I’d have at least three girls to juggle, like so many

bowling pins in my hands. My game has suffered.

Lots of pretty girls in the alley; can’t get any of

them alone though, too many walking hard-ons

with testosterone leaking from their eyeballs. Think

that could be a bad thing? I do, I do, I do.

 

Nathan Logan Bio