Ninety First Entry

Ran into my old friend Steve Caratzas on the street and was inspired to post another poem. I am writing, sporadically, a few poems (finally had a good idea for the manuscript) and a novel. You'll likely see a lot more of me because I just got a new laptop! I'm excited.

Here's my poem:

MACARONI

Thank you for coming to this,
the last time I will ever puke.

Afterwards I gurgle and wipe my lip
and kiss everybody.

I’m being born in the metal observatory.
Don’t worry. I’m quiet.

There’s a whisper and a squeak.
I’m rubbing all the erasers down also.

The poem is taking place in a suitcase.
It’s time for a game:

I’m being born in a coal mine and I make my own luck,
made my first dollar.

I broke my hand like china,
like brittle wood, terra cotta,

china the plate not china the country
the country is swell.

Happy birthday,
here’s what I got you:

today is remembered by my documentarian
a dandy yellow fuck.

The poem is placed in the separate suitcase.
Part of the trick is distracting the audience