Wow.  chapbook of poems, spring, 2011

Copyright
 
2011
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
wow.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
patrick birdener
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
this poem is too long.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
i dropped it off
 
on an island
 
in a gutter.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the word Crap can be a poem.
 
so can a creature that eats hearts.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
this
 
poem
 
really
 
breathes.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the silence a quiet mind rings.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
i was lost, reminiscing
about reminiscing.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
maybe i could induce an epiphany
taping my feet to the ceiling.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
poetry’s a toy.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sometimes in life,
when you look real close,
you can catch a spider
sucking on a victim
twice its size.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
i nipped a patch of lip skin,
dropped it on the ground.
an ant skittled by a minute later,
lifted it,
and skittled away.
 
*
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
she uses her poems like dreams,
to deal with previous days.
everyone has front row seats.
she’s waiting for critiques.
 
he uses his poems like knives,
to flay the skin off the fruit of his soul.
it’s a little like mine.
 
this plane flies.
each cloud
is a peach.
watch for pits.
 
this cloud floats.
jet planes on descent
slice like speeding lovers.
 
(wtf?)
 
i use my poems
sparingly
these days.