Sean Penn Anti-Ode
Must Sean Penn always look like he's squeezing
the last drops out of a sponge and the sponge
is his face? Even the back of his head grimaces.
Just the pressure in his little finger alone
could kill a gorilla. Remember that kid
whose whole trick was forcing blood into his head
until he looked like the universe's own cherry bomb
so he'd get the first whack at the piñata?
He's grown up to straighten us all out
about weapons of mass destruction
but whatever you do, don't ding his car door with yours.
Don't ask about his girlfriend's cat.
Somewhere a garbage truck beeps backing up
and in these circumstances counts as a triumph of sanity.
Sleet in the face, no toilet paper,
regrets over an argument, not investing wisely,
internment of the crazy mother, mistreatment
of laboratory animals.
Life, my friends, is ordinary crap.
Pineapple slices on tutu-wearing toothpicks.
Those puke bags in the seatback you might need.
The second DVD only the witlessly bored watch.
Some architectural details about Batman's cape.
Music videos about hairdos, tattoos, implants and bling.
The crew cracking up over some actor's flub.
Dean Young
Poetry
July/August 2006: The Humor Issue
Must Sean Penn always look like he's squeezing
the last drops out of a sponge and the sponge
is his face? Even the back of his head grimaces.
Just the pressure in his little finger alone
could kill a gorilla. Remember that kid
whose whole trick was forcing blood into his head
until he looked like the universe's own cherry bomb
so he'd get the first whack at the piñata?
He's grown up to straighten us all out
about weapons of mass destruction
but whatever you do, don't ding his car door with yours.
Don't ask about his girlfriend's cat.
Somewhere a garbage truck beeps backing up
and in these circumstances counts as a triumph of sanity.
Sleet in the face, no toilet paper,
regrets over an argument, not investing wisely,
internment of the crazy mother, mistreatment
of laboratory animals.
Life, my friends, is ordinary crap.
Pineapple slices on tutu-wearing toothpicks.
Those puke bags in the seatback you might need.
The second DVD only the witlessly bored watch.
Some architectural details about Batman's cape.
Music videos about hairdos, tattoos, implants and bling.
The crew cracking up over some actor's flub.
Dean Young
Poetry
July/August 2006: The Humor Issue
I was checking in on my Myspace page and noticed a bulletin from Cormac about his birthday and a blurb that he recently signed a new two book deal with Knopf. I am excited. So instead of torturing you with more travelogue photos I put up this poem that is scheduled for retirement from the Poetry Daily archives.
UPDATE: I am going to try something new by sporadically adding some tunes to this place with the help of the Box.net file sharing site. Earlier on the way to work I was listening to a mix cd my friend RL in Tucson made for me last year called Pop Tunes 6/6/6. Track # 6 on this sublime mix is a duet of Loretta Lynn and Jack White doing the song, Portland, Oregon from her album Van Lear Rose which was produced my Mr. White. Click on the song title to check it out and let me know if it works. The song has a long intro and White's vocals are bit subdued but Loretta can still belt it out.
Bob Mould has a new Ask Bob column about GNR, Iraq, and the Dutch Queen.
4 comments:
It works. Good to see you last night. Sorry I was so zoned out.
Cool thanks for checking.
Holy shit Bob Mould got old. When did that happen?
Went to the Irish fest w/Sweeney et al last night, got back this morning after some doings at Wisteria Lane. Good times.
There was that the one Irish fest that Sweeney left Loose Lips and myself behind due to a confusion with the ride situation and we ended up having a Glastonbury cop call a cab for us.
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