Poetry
from Autobiography of Michael Nicoloff
and tell us your feelings
place in an envelope and mail to home
girding yourself in pre-dental society
tray 7 is not out of paper
tray 5 is essentially a billy club
and when my boss just asked someone
"how's your wad today?"
and it's like a giant nap in my cheeks, I said
with awareness of what horrors came next
traveling by sea beast from this time onward
exercise routines and trimming the tree
songs recorded off the radio, all that
what’d I say? I said shit just take me to the death hug
that kind of bummer staving off
a lifetime of passive income
it would’ve been, like, that easy, but no
today I'm across town, thinking
about flags and anthems
clapping that mini cooper
eating a meat sky off in the distance
agriculture might have been a mistake
kind of the all-purpose verb
they huffed in public in a sister city
but when I need the yeti's mobile number
a self-addressed stamped envelope
a pretty important part of my childhood
well, where are they?
uh-huh, cleaning your body with lighter fluid
and an article of clothing called a crumple
saying "to jeff" should be an action verb
and the assistant pharaoh
pulls my hair into really long packets
and I’m not going to request a door prize or anything, but
what I thought was sunlight was a flying insect in clamps
so, you know...
time to “dowse for ore”
“claim the radish”
need some better diagrams
astronaut pee and the great barracuda
keeping out of the nutrient broth
its helmet had a mustache
zip ties for large earthquakes and fires
sand-and-air-filled animal skin pouches
identified by Petco staff as regulars
you need a nervous system
in cat eye goggles
choking citizens in court
the child was identified as the parent
the dream involved a trumpet and writers
an overstuffed car leaving Belfast
water poured on the pick-up artists
feed them after midnight
pretend you shot the ram and serve
the grossest thing you've ever done at work
I would like to read your annual report
wrapped in all the subtle emotions
involved in watching a human
be replaced by a machine in real time
and the irreparability of small tooth chips
but I’ll need someone to remove my neck first
with an easy hand agape at her labors
it affects you in the paw
and the fruit base with cramps
will adorn my rye
some kind of sweet brace
tops my cookie with a little bit of eye
let’s drink tap water
eat the infographic
I don't know how to go about
communing with the snakes and bees
but I have this exercise for jowls
some good opportunities to be jerks to strangers
in on a mule / out on a gurney
meet me at the dumpster
starching the world
I'm starting to question
my knowledge of the alphabet
a bathtub full of extra paychecks
spitting on cold bricks
go get some burlap / see for yourself
book the sheepdogs
hear a turkey gobble
I want standalone wool sleeves
to know the joy of standard liquids
harassed by the interface on the chipping floor
a blue-clawed crab using leaves as currency
with the sudden urge to visit the Dakotas
cuss words printed on a baseball bat
indicating a possible future
where my dragons’ names are Bud and Sandra
functionally a meat locker
Contributor
Michael NicoloffMichael Nicoloff is the author of the chapbooks "Punks", Mixed Grill (Monologue Version), and I Hope You Die, as well as the CD "Punkses" (After Ketjak). With Alli Warren, he wrote Bruised Dick and Eunoia. Formerly a curator of the (New) Reading Series at 21 Grand and Artifact, he presently serves on the board of Small Press Traffic and is an organizer with the Bay Area Public School.