actually, cunningham here, letting the good folks at This Poet's Life know about a little contest going on over at Lit. Mary.
head over and prove that you're WAY more j.b than j.b.
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8 comments:
So far, I think Cunningham is the most j.b. of us all...
i think you're right. and here i was thinking that i was the j.bingest j.b in all the land. turns out, i was very wrong.
some good ones there.
*last night Thor's Hammer*
two scientists recently decoded
why Bukowski
turns green
feeding crumbs to
starved pigeons.
"i'm the Muhammad Ali
of suction dryers,"
he says.
"i guess all that
leaves me," i say,
"is the St. Remy asylum
and death as
a roll
of
counterfeit nickels"
she lays a blanket
across her lap
to keep her legs
warm against the draft
she
shave(s)
my balls like
the actors in
the movie.
now that's what i call
a bright future.
simply marvelous.
that poems sounds so familiar. many times over, even.
great job, Hosho...great job.
Uh. Who is justin.barrett?
- -
Okay,
Father Luke
I BROKE THE JAW OF MOHAMMED ALI
for J.B.
When I was nimble
of foot,
and off my meds,
I would spar with
the greatest
back in Louisville.
I toyed with Ali
and broke
his jaw. I did
not fall for his
rope a dope.
I clocked him square.
I was the Mohammed
Ali
of the eighties.
I stole his thunder.
But now everyone
thinks I am crazy.
i was sad
this morning
to hear
that Ingemar Johannson
had died
when i was
younger
my dad told me
Johannson
was shit
but
i never
believed him
and now i
am sad
that he died.
here is not my attempt at jb...just a very late impression on an early interpretation. love you, hope all is well.
burl wood
only a hacksaw
can cut thru,
baby.
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