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2 Poems by Chris O'Carroll |
JOE-PYE WEED Extraterrestrial biologists cataloguing odd flora here on Earth, explorers in some cartoon universe. That's what our friend joe-pye weed makes of us -- outlandish purple tuft on gangly stalk sprouting beside the path as if atop the head of something drawn by Dr. Seuss. We're here to walk the dog. She runs ahead, pausing to pee and shit and sniff the ground where other dogs have peed and shat before. Watching where we step, we turn our heads, kiss off balance, catch more nose and chin than lip. We cling and taste each other's laughter. Love, like nature's beauty, has its goofy side. A WEEK OF T-SHIRTS Quotidian -- there's a word you don't see every day. If God didn't want us to be agnostics, why did He make Himself so difficult to believe in? Think globally, act weird. There are no small parts, only cameo appearances. Cover up an assassination? The U.S. government couldn't cover up a blowjob! Honk if your beliefs can be summed up on a bumper sticker. Man of letters. (On a good day, man of whole words.)
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