How To Get Published, Apparently.

Wait until you're dry.
And when you have nothing to say
Start with a quote in a foreign language.
Then proceed to say nothing
And if you can, say it about flowers.
Or sex.
Or that look in your grandmother's eye
That haunts you.

Say the Nothing with authority
Like Moses with word salad.

Write in short, simple sentences.
Write about writing.

The publishers will love you;
Those syntax janitors,
Counting syllables
Masturbating in your water-flavored water
Knuckle deep in between mirrors facing mirrors.
"Writ
ing ab
out writi
ngggggggggoooo
H my GO
Dhhhhh….."

And the bankers and the coke heads and the poachers will go right on.
Exxon will have a thousand of your dollars before you've finished deciding between commas and semicolons.
The politicians will go on.
So will the window washers.
And the arms dealers.
And the dead-eyed Bachelor of Arts in the cubicle next to you.
And your grandmother too, in her way.
That world will keep spinning safely.
The only difference will be that now your name will be a series of ink stains
On a small, cheap page
In a small, cheap book
Which is (let's be honest) all you ever wanted.

You Have Two Hearts

you have two hearts
and i choose the savage one
i take my chances with the parts of you
that border the sea
the angles of you
that tell the pulsing tides
"here, and no further"

you have two hearts
and i moved my bed
into the one that drinks the rivers dry

others have their causes
their politics
their shallow share of dirt

but in your savage heart
i have a homeland.