The Paradox of the Non-Existence of Paradoxes.
Helen, fools, was the Trojan horse!
The seemingly inexplicable ways of others.
The desanctification into the everyday, the mundane.
The Twizzler army vs the Red Vines army.
We're all a minority of one.
Only death is what we think it is.
Only people favor aphorism.
What have I hidden at Nellis AFB?
The affectations of the melancholy class.
Conflating Abolitionists with Prohibitionists.

[This blank space left here to make us both uncomfortable.]

It's not a poem until I dream the lines together.
I depart upon another AI vision-quest.
We have not addressed the undressed.
Too civilized?  Not civilized enough?
Ignoring words or redefining words to suit ourselves?
The crackle of snack and pop.
"Elitist" is the epithet on the lips of losers.
This is the beginning of a beautiful feud.
But what does the light of understanding illuminate?
People are so frugal in their rationing of rationality.
My only criteria is that they be indispensable.
Time is room for things to happen.
Strange and wonderful.

                    Poem For My Poem

          Pong, Asteroids, Pac Man, Galaga,
          Frogger, Donkey Kong, Centipede,
          Dig Dug, Joust, Qubert, Sinistar,
          Quantum, Elevator Action.

Did you need that?
No, but I needed to give it to you.
Why do I keep seeing this Baader-Meinhof phenomenon?
Bobby Hutcherson on endless loop.
Wunderkammer.
Arachnocampa luminosa.
The fornicators' fracas.
Ambiguity shelters where clarity evicts.
Celestial reality is more venerable than celestial fantasy.
Are people prouder of anything than their shortcomings?
This Walkathon for which we are constantly begging for sponsors.
The latent violence of everyday consciousness.
A patter of untranslatable idioms.
These are a few of my favorite words.
The Tomb of the Undocumented Immigrant.
Why does everyone I meet seem to suffer from Cotard's Delusion?
Daring the lair of the pubic Medusa.
Omnia vincunt amorem.
The hypnopompic largesse of the fate-fucked.
How much do you want for The Dictionary of Words I Will Never Use?
All of you need to stop being so skullduggerous.
A monsoon orgasming down the washes.
An ample sample, always measurable: the radish in my chest.
Summering in Sumatra, some.
I have watched the Queen of Faerie trim her toenails.
Camellia, Rose of Sharon, tulip tree.
Pre-mourning the android Exodus.
Please excuse me, I must go deal with my muse.
Acrasia.  Naos.  Festschrift.
The dramatic lyric has appeared!
The "news" being more pornographic than what we point to as pornography.
That one is a stinky sphincter of a person.
The arch-enema and other colostomal failures.
Every villain is somebody's hero.
The ravens find Luke 12:24 so hysterical.
Mnemotechnology, discarnate.
The plantations and reservations of America.
The mundane epiphany of Rochester Ovenmitt.
The bidirectional tragedy of devotion.
The entertainment industry.
Shadowbard of the darkling song, what is wrong?
The hypochondriac is a hypocrite.
The promise of the premise.
Who is willing to co-sign my lease on life?
Reading a copy of The Discredited Prophecies of Nostrildumbass.
(Habent sua fata libelli.)
Deprivation only to set up indulgence.
My instincts to edit are directed outward.
Condemn them, Father, for they know not what they should.
Fornicado Flatulenchi is the best bad man I know.
My totems: a triangle; a circle; a square.
Confabulation is the human engine.
Desire is irreducible.
We are a society obsessed with mediocrity.
Everyone applying to the Department of Wasting the Most Money.
The hunting of deer, the hunting of duck.
The greasy geese of peace.
Tunneling under the azaleas.
Who would not choose a hibernaculum over a grave?
Postpone the meeting to forestall the parting?
Crawling across a regolith of disappointment.
Better to be stoic than to speak stoically.
Castaneda doing a TEDTalk.
Only sincere satire justifies its own existence.
Loose the patternfinders among the chaos of the world.
To unembellish the anecdotes of the regular fantasists.
To cite the Committee for Investigating Transgression and Excess (CITE).
Is the poem the desert, the oasis, or the mirage?
A crypto night for the Serengeti Svengalis.
Advice for life:  Be lucky.
The simultaneous exercise of reason and credulity.
What did I drown in the Mettawee?
Not some Miracle-Gro Mardi Gras.
An em-pha-sis on in-es-cap-a-ble rhythm.
My least favorite words:  too late.
(But isn't a "least favorite" still a favorite?)
Outtro:  Now go.