Found Poem

The chocolate puddle at the

bottom of the profiterole

was bitter and full of hazelnut,

not what I expected, but it was

just about perfect.

Fooled by Mirrors

And sometimes that was it

slow and puzzling

a dirty rainbow

allowed to penetrate

dazzling volumes.


[originally posted May 23, 2009.]

Glitch3 Launch Party Tonight at the Luminary Center for the Arts

I've got a piece, "The Thing Tangible," published in the new issue of Glitch3: Connection Time-Out. Other contributors are: Alex Petrowsky, Simon Høegsberg, Nicole Rainey, Bram Perry, Jason Eppink, Vadim Gershman, A.J. Patrick Liszkiewicz, Richard Parker, Misha Sulpovar, Caroline Cusano. Glitch3 was designed by Vadim Gershman and Justin M. Smith.

GL_ITCH 10.15.10 from Ryan Powell on Vimeo.

Glitch3: Connection Time-Out is complete! It is an object to behold –- a full-color, perfect-bound book with detachable art and glitchEd content. Glitch3 is published by Post Literate, a brand-new publisher/music label. Come celebrate the launch of Post Literate/Glitch3 and US English, an electronic/glitch/operatic music outfit also celebrating the debut of its brand new EP, What Frontier. There will be people, food, drink, music, moving and static images and copies of Glitch3 for sale. $10 gets you inside + a copy of US English's What Frontier EP + a discounted copy of Glitch3. The show kicks off promptly at 8 p.m. on Friday, October 15th, at the Luminary Center for the Arts.

Music by: Phaseone / US English / 18 & Counting

GLITCH 3 /////////////// n.3 from Ryan Powell on Vimeo.

T. Renner to Read at Poems, Prose & Pints at Dressel's on Tuesday, October 5

I'll be reading at Dressel's 419 North Euclid, in the Central West End, on Tuesday, October 5, as part of the monthly Poems, Prose & Pints series. The reading begins at 7:00 p.m. and admission is free.

Also reading will be Jon Dressel, Erin Goss, Kelli Allen, David Lucas, Rebecca Brown Gregory, and the featured reader James Stone Goodman.

I'm not sure yet exactly what all I'll read but I'll be sure to read this poem:

Times Square, 1973

A smell barely remembered reminds her
of the day when the two of them met
and went to a Times Square hotel. She
should have known better than to skip
lunch and pick him up. He sometimes
complained when she did. But the fashion
has changed, she said. In the room,
she imagined rather than felt
the breeze from an open window
that he gazed out, humming quietly.
She asked him to come nearer and like
a long fall slowed she reached out
and touched him and it stood up and
went hard into the pink and together
they moved rhythmically. They could not
stay with it long but he could move
as she moved and then he shivered slightly
and with delight shuddered. They turned
aside and she stared at the lights beyond
as if awakened on the other side.

Poems, Prose & Pints at Dressel's on Tuesday, October 5

I'll be reading at Dressel's 419 North Euclid, in the Central West End, on Tuesday, October 5, as part of the monthly Poems, Prose & Pints series. The reading begins at 7:00 p.m. and admission is free.

Also reading will be Jon Dressel, Erin Goss, Kelli Allen, David Lucas, Rebecca Brown Gregory, and the featured reader James Stone Goodman.

I'm not sure yet exactly what all I'll read but I'll be sure to read some of the poems I wrote during National Poetry Month this April:

A Question

trouble, do you need

us, all shades of restlessness &

delicate nuances of

lamentations, we are but

the ethical absolute,

an inflection given to words, well

aware of our sticky

barefeet?

do you need us?


Summer, Washington University in Saint Louis

smokers outside in a circle
four boys -- one girl
in black and white stripes
one guy shuffles his feet and paws
at the ground with his right foot
like a horse, a stallion, a randy
thoroughbred

girl swings her arms in front of her
back and forth until she suddenly

hugs herself tightly and then
explosively un-hugs herself and then

she begins to swing her arms again
the next guy in the circle
begins to shuffle and paw


Strategy

she came to him
and he carefully
built a chance

but knowing his
foe he tried to
insure his success

before finally she
saw that her hostile
country would suddenly
come to defeat

Send in the Clones

Written on the occasion of Jack Buck's passing in 2002.

JACK BUCK:
Welcome to the 2050 Major League Baseball All-Star Game.

MIKE SHANNON:
It should be one heck of a battle. The American League is being represented by the clones of Ted Williams. The National League will be fielding a team of Mark McGwire clones. So, sit back with a cold-frosty and enjoy.

JACK BUCK:
It's great to be back calling a game after the l-o-o-o-ng player's strike. Old-timers may have thought that the strike of 2002-2005 was a doozy, but 2040-2050 strike -- well, now, that's one heck of a doozy.

MIKE SHANNON:
That's for darn-tootin'. Gotta give the owner's credit for comin' up with the idea of makin' their own players. No strikes and the owners don't have to pay 'em. Those trillion dollar salaries were really starting to add up. Lift your cold-frosty and give 'em a toast.

JACK BUCK:
Here comes Ted Williams1-that's W-i-l-l-i-a-m-s numeral 1-to the mound. He winds up and there's the first pitch. Mark McGwire9 swings, connects, [CRACK] and it's going, going, [ZZZAAAPPP]. Oh, no, that ball was on it's way out of the park but the security lasers here at Emerson Electric-Imo's Pizza- Missouri Payday Loan Stadium zapped it. That's a ground-rule double for Mark McGwire9 -that's M-c-g-w-i-r-e numeral 9. That would have been homer 279 for McGwire9.

MIKE SHANNON:
That was a heck of a blast, Jack! But Mark9 needs to learn to keep 'em down. Those security lasers don't distinguish between terror- rockets coming in and McGwire9 rockets goin' out. If a blast like that doesn't call for a cold-frosty, I don't know what does.

* * * *

JACK BUCK:
Well, friends, it's time for the seventh inning stretch. The McGwire-clone led NL leads the Williams-clone AL 25-2.

MIKE SHANNON:
I hate to say it but it looks like the AL may have to start using the same physio-mechanical bio-upgrades on the Williams-clones that the NL is using on the McGwire-clones. Whew, big words like that call for a cold-frosty, Jack!

JACK BUCK:
Just can't see the neo-traditionalists in the AL going in for that kind of thing. Look at how long it took to put the Ted Williams-clones on a steroid program.

MIKE SHANNON:
It's gonna take grit and determination and not steroids, to come back from a deficit like that, Jack. We'll be back after a word from our sponsors and a cold-frosty or two.

* * * *

JACK BUCK:
It's the bottom of the 9th and the Ted Williams-clone lead AL team has come roaring back to get within 1 run. Two outs with a clone on 3rd. Williams7, batting .850 this season, is at the plate.

MIKE SHANNON:
It's great to see good ol' flesh-and-blood-and-steroids prevail over freaks of science.

JACK BUCK:
Whoa, there, Mike. Where's your journalistic objectivity? And, remember, just a decade ago androids like us were being called the freaks.

MIKE SHANNON:
Right you are, Jack! It's the pitch from McGwire9 to Williams7. [BINK*] It's a line-drive to right field. Williams5 tags up and heads for home. McGwire3 can't make the catch, scoops up the horsehide, throws. Williams5 slides. Safe!

JACK BUCK:
That's a winner!

MIKE SHANNON:
Old Abner does it again! Time for a frosty cold one, Jack!

*=aluminum bat

T. Renner to Read at Poems, Prose & Pints at Dressel's on Tuesday, October 5

I'll be reading at Dressel's 419 North Euclid, in the Central West End, on Tuesday, October 5, as part of the monthly Poems, Prose & Pints series. The reading begins at 7:00 p.m. and admission is free.

Also reading will be Jon Dressel, Erin Goss, Kelli Allen, David Lucas, Rebecca Brown Gregory, and the featured reader James Stone Goodman.

I'm not sure yet exactly what all I'll read but I'll be sure to read "Roldo the Fish-headed Boy," a poem I wrote way back in 1982:

Roldo the Fish-headed Boy

Roldo was a boy
(that is, he was a young human
with a penis)
who differed from the rest of his society
in that he had the head of a fish

Roldo was a bright boy
he was good at math
and at reading and writing
and he could ride a bicycle like
nothing
but, still, he had the head of a fish

Other boys were often cruel to Roldo
girls, (young humans with vaginas)
were also cruel to him
they (the boys and girls) made up a song

The song was about Roldo
when he would ride by on his bicycle
they would sing:
Roldo the fish-headed boy
he’s so ugly we want to cry
he’s a fish and he should fry
and then they would laugh

The singing and laughing hurt Roldo
but he loved riding his bike too much to
stop

Roldo would often ride blocks
and blocks out of his way to avoid
other children and thus was sometimes
late in arriving at home
where he mother and father would be
anxiously awaiting his return

Mother and Father were worried about Roldo
they felt guilty about inflicting a fish-headed child
on the world and the world
on a fish-headed child
and they were afraid that something would
happen to him and somehow their guilt would be
revealed

But, still, they loved Roldo and when he would
return in tears they would hug and kiss him
and tell him that everything would be alright
and though they hadn’t really believed it
as the years passed things did begin to get better

Roldo’s fish-headedness became less and less
Until one day Roldo was just an average
boy
and went out riding his bike
and no one laughed or sang

Photos from Firecracker Press Reading

The fine folks at Firecracker Press hosted a poetry reading featuring me and Steve Schroeder on Saturday, September 18.

Hilary Hitchcock took these photos of me and Eric Wood.

"Eggs! No!" by Firecracker Press

Even if you didn't attend the reading, you can still purchase a copy of this broadside by contacting the Firecracker Press.

T. Renner Reading at Firecracker Press on Saturday, September 18

I'll be reading as part of Poetry Readings at The Firecracker Press, 2838 Cherokee Street, STL, (314) 776-7271, on Saturday, September 18, at 2:00 p.m. Steve Schroeder author of the poetry collection, Torched Verse Ends, will also be reading. While we read Firecracker Press will be setting up and printing a broadside of one of our poems on their antique presses.

Admission is $5 per person and also gets you one of these hand-printed broadsides. You can also buy an additional broadside so you can have a poem from each writer.

Space is limited, so reserve your seat today by clicking here.

I'll be reading mostly short poems that can be loudly declaimed over the clickety-clack of the presses.

Like this:

A Cool Poem

when the president of the saxophone

lester young said "i'm cool" he meant

nothing was wrong --

nobody was going to go upside his head -- that

he had his sunglasses on so

he could see you better

And, like this:

Notes from a Conversation

Hell, he said.

Alone, she said.

Anything, he said.

Wait, she said.

Wish, he said.

No, she said.

And, like this:

A House But Not A Home

The process of bringing the

house up to the standards of

Jean Harlow's ghost was

difficult, to say the least.

Previous readers at Firecracker Press have been Joseph Sulier, Richard Newman, Pam Garvey, Nicky Rainey, Stefene Russell, and Chris King.

"Camera Obscura" Published on Troubadour 21

My poem, "Camera Obscura," was just published on the Troubadour 21 website. You can read it by clicking here.

More information at Troubadour 21 follows:

A literary and artistic haven for poets, writers and artists in the 21st century.

Troubadours were medieval lyric poets, minstrels, or singers who traveled throughout Europe from the 11th-13th centuries. They performed for the nobility, sharing their poems and songs based on the themes of chivalry and courtly love.

The purpose of this site is to promote art in all of its many forms: poetry, writing, art, photography, and music. We want to bring together poets to submit their poems, writers their stories, artists their paintings, and photographers their photographs.

We hope to create a niche in today’s modern world for the 21st century poet and artist inside you, whether alive and flourishing, hidden or forgotten, needing only to be revived.

We want to create a place for people to promote their work, to inform our readers when and where they will be sharing their work, whether an art show, photography show or musical performance. If possible, we will be there to write reviews and articles on your shows.

Troubadour 21 is a place for us to share our innermost creations, thoughts, to bring back the prolific spirit of medieval and Renaissance literary times to the 21st century.

T. Renner Reading at Pop's Blue Moon on Thursday, September 2

T. Renner reading at Duff's. Photo: Brett Underwood
This Thursday, September 2 at Pop's Blue Moon, 5249 Pattison (just north of I-44 on the Hill) I'll be reading at "Bob's Scratchy Showcase" along with Brett Underwood and Matt Freeman, with special guest Barely-Free Partial Prisoners (i.e. Jacob Cohen's hip-hop poetry). Cover is $5; doors open at 8:00 p.m.

Times Square, 1973

A smell barely remembered reminds her
of the day when the two of them met
and went to a Times Square hotel. She
should have known better than to skip
lunch and pick him up. He sometimes
complained when she did. But the fashion
has changed, she said. In the room,
she imagined rather than felt
the breeze from an open window
that he gazed out, humming quietly.

She asked him to come nearer and like
a long fall slowed she reached out
and touched him and it stood up and
went hard into the pink and together
they moved rhythmically. They could not
stay with it long but he could move
as she moved and then he shivered slightly
and with delight shuddered. They turned
aside and she stared at the lights beyond
as if awakened on the other side.

Benefit Reading for Mathieu Paul Allsup Tonight!

I'll be participating in a benefit poetry reading for Mathieu Paul Allsup on Monday, August 23, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, beginning at 7:30 p.m. Admission is $5.00.

The reading was organized by Get Born and is a collaboration with Bad Shoe, Voices From The Underground, and •Chance Operations• and will feature readings by Tony Renner, Chris Parr, Matthew Freeman, Erin Wiles, Joseph Sulier, Elly Herget, Mathieu Paul, Joe Wetteroth, Bill Foster, Julia Gordon-Bramer, and Philip Gounis,with musical intermissions by Jacob Cohen (solo hip-hop), Mat from Rum Drum Ramblers, and Bob Reuter.

Get Born writes:

As many of you may know, recently our beloved friend and poet Mathieu Paul Allsup took a 4 story plunge from the roof of a building, as such he will be out of work for at least two months so Get Born has come out of retirement for one night only in order to raise some money to keep Mathieus' bills paid while he is unable to work.

The Shooting of Andy Warhol: A Short Short Story

T. Renner, "Red Typewriter," ballpoint pen and gouache on paper, 2003-2009, 4" x 3.25".

Way back when (October 22, 2003), I attended an event for teachers (not that I was one but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time) at the St. Louis Art Museum. The event was called "In the Write Space" and involved various workshops in various galleries at SLAM.

One of these workshops was "Parking Space: Letters, Journaling, and Diaries," led by Stephanie Sigala, in a contemporary furniture gallery. Items in the gallery included "Valentine Portable Typewriter" designed by Ettore Sottass, Jr.; the "'Mezzadro' Stool" (Tractor chair) designed by Achille Castiglioni; 'Baolum' Lamp," designed by Gianfranco Frattini; and "'Toio' Floor Lamp," designed by Castiglioni.

One of Stephanie's assignments was for students to sketch the typewriter (color added recently) shown above.

Another of her assignments was to imagine three items in a room and describe what happened in the room on a specific date. Stephanie offered "extra credit" for describing May 4, 1970:

It’s Andy Warhol’s Factory, New York, NY. It’s 2:00 p.m., May 4, 1970. A photo shoot is in progress. Click-whirrr-click. “That’s it, baby. Um, sell it to me. That’s right, make me, um, feel it.”

Andy has Ultraviolet sitting in the tractor chair with the “Toio” lamp providing the light. It’s not enough so Andy has her drape a Boalum lamp around her shoulders. The lamp is a glowing plastic coil, as if someone has stuck a strand of Xmas lights inside of a hairdryer hose.

Suddenly, there is shouting. “Where is he?! Where is he?!” It’s Valerie Salonas, she’s looking for Andy Warhol, and she’s mad.

“Look out! Look out, Andy,” someone screams. It’s too late, though. Valerie has gotten close to Andy, stuck her gun in his belly, and pulled the trigger. BLAM!, like that. Real loud, louder than on TV.

Everyone in the room rushes to Andy’s side. Solanas is wrestled, not gently, to the ground.

“Oh, Andy, poor Andy,” says Ultraviolet.

[Originally posted on Tony Renner, Artist, Wednesday, February 25, 2009.]

The Red Drapes

She was totally paralyzed after
A few glasses of champagne and
After all that noise, she
Stayed there and opened up
He examined her, approving

She did not consider
What had occurred
When she saw the heavy red drapes
Early in the morning over
And around her long legs

"Goodbye," he said, and
"You figure it out."

[Originally posted on September 28, 2009.]

Reggae Lyrics (Misheard)

T. Renner, "Reggae Lyrics (Misheard)," 2010, Sharpie on notecard, 6" x 4".

written in
[shake]
the book of
[bag]
fools
[rules]

With Sails

they sail on rough seas
towards themselves rather than
away from one another

and nobody would even have to know
what he sees as he peers perplexedly away
i said bitterly to him alone

to be found that way...
to be anything other...
to think that when...

[Originally posted April 4, 2009.]

Courage

As if courage could be transmitted

he developed an entire science

for the generation to come.

[Originally posted April 4, 2009; originally written circa 1979]

A House But Not A Home

The process of bringing the

house up to the standards of

Jean Harlow's ghost was

difficult, to say the least.

[Originally posted March 20, 2009. Written circa 1979.]

Sunset

he thought, he did think
even on the hill
vanished foliage
he had denied
molten sunset
gone, she
had been more
beautiful than
he had believed

beauty exotic, not tentative
her cruel smile, her
beauty
in a smile
still remained
as she would tell

[originally posted 6-1-2009]

Chance Meeting

he walked toward the same couple he had seen before

he shouted where it was possibly a mistake to shout

but they turned toward him, apparently friends

the woman came to him and put her hand into his own

she said that she'd had no chance before and then became herself

A Weird Tale

he had returned from the future

and demanded, forcefully,

a pencil, inspecting it from
back to front and around again

in ten seconds we were

visible and standing beside
the very dark out of

which we had been turned
he opened his chest and took out the night

$2 Bill

she tended to make a big noise about things

like the time the guy followed alongside her

as she walked home from work and dropped a

two-dollar bill at her feet when they came

to a cross-walk.

Cold Spell

cold came back last

year or thereabouts

he looked it up and

almost yelled but

in something like that

discretion is best

in order to immerse

himself more and more

his condition an exaggeration

and waking with some difficulty

he reached up and caught her,

persuading her

during those days after

on the loose, ever after

Duel

Then the gentleman smiled

Reminiscing on past faces

His distrust vanished

Apparent to him that

I was no challenge

First, Beautiful

She hugged his body.

He rolled over
empty cans.

She sobbed
about his body.

Newspaper Blackout Poem #3

Down the Middle

i tried to stop the pressure

tongue hanging wet, she

apologized

we would lie against houses

down the middle

he could not

tear his eye away

we kissed

quiet, at last

A Question

trouble, do you need

us, all shades of restlessness &

delicate nuances of

lamentations, we are but

the ethical absolute,

an inflection given to words, well

aware of our sticky

barefeet?

do you need us?

What About the Sun?

he's mad enough at society

what about the sun

if she may be then still

come too late to greet

with his hands and a brick

pounding a beat still dark

outside the window

Spy Story

choked, gagged
his chest of drawers
toppled on top
consulted by dialing
"worth a try"
soon they appeared
turned forward to read
the foreign trade
unquestioned report

Avoidance

somewhat delayed that morning

you returned to find her sleepless

at the kitchen table ready and

waiting to end the avoidance

you've heard, seen and been

everything and everywhere

but positively not someone

comfortable with being where

and who you happen to be

Summer, Washington University in Saint Louis

five smokers outside in a circle
four boys and a lone girl
in black and white stripes

one guy shuffles his feet and paws
at the ground with his right foot
like a horse, a stallion, a randy
thoroughbred

the girl swings her arms in front of her
back and forth until she suddenly

hugs herself tightly and then
explosively un-hugs herself and then

she begins to swing her arms again
and the next guy in the circle
begins to shuffle and paw

The Turning

then she turned toward him

shouting out the phrasesso it seemed to him that

she had closed the door on all
the questions he had voiced

A Cool Poem

when lester young --

the president of the saxophone --

said "i'm cool" he meant

nothing was wrong -- nobody was

going upside his head -- and

he had his sunglasses on

so he could see you better

[for Joel Dinerstein]

Newspaper Blackout Poem #2

Calendar

what the fuck
am i supposed to
do with a sci-
fi date like
twenty-ten?

A Queer Kind of Virgin

Slowly pulling her downward
Curious most curious
Recalling the boy’s face
As much as his balls
Nude, small form
Rocking on his heels
Relax, holding
Legs and arms slack
Once, twice; her body
Her shoulders and arms
Powerfully stroking
And then letting his cock
Dribble on her breast

Youth Is Wasted

but quite determined he scaled the
banks of the universe arriving to make
what he feared cease to exist in an
an instant, he often asked his friends:

under what circumstances are you
known?

Since the young so often
shift, so they want
an ample shielding, a
full cavity so much

Camera Obscura

You make a pin-hole camera
from an old cardboard box
with film stuck inside at one end
and a hole pricked in the other

You uncover the hole and
light streams in exposing
the film and then magic
and science work it out
and a picture is made

Exposure of the film to light
can be minutes
not seconds or even
fractions of seconds
more than time enough

The still is captured sharply
but the moving
blurs and becomes
indistinct

After your camera is made
someone says
hey, let's make a picture of us
fucking

And so you do and the picture
shows skin on skin, yes
but neither bulging veins
nor butterfly labia
are revealed and clearly
no penetration is revealed

On the periphery but not out of sight
captured in their quotidian glory are
a broom and a dustpan full
it is true

Sins of Omission

up after a moment of

laying in bed wondering

money has to be dispersed

owed to a list of general

strangers desiring to

get a few leads.

information neither created
nor destroyed.

revision of characteristics

Poontang

"poontang, poontang" the girls chant

sitting in a circle as luna doles out the goods

i sit listening happy with my wine
ecstasy supposedly but cat -- cathy to family

-- later reports that it was more like speed keeping

her up all night watering plants in the dark

Salesmen

stone the free-wheeling

a proposal; an action
neither man wants to compete
though to get a few leads
they had absorbed
a set of instructions

this and the spacer button

factions were taken over
an "L" and a "A"
and then it's every man
for himself!

Myth

rubbing his eyes, hercules saw
nessus' hooves as he turned
to carry deianira across the river
as though he'd given her up
to the flood

and she barefoot, too, why
would he do such a thing?

arrow hydra-dipped loosed
across the river at the two
strikes but does not kill
and poisoned blood turns
white shirt to red

from nessus to deinira

a charm to make love bloom

to hercules far from home
and in the arms of another

hercules wears the shirt and starts
to sweat and swear and he understands
as the poison burns his skin

fire to stop the fire
burn to stop the fire

Strategy

she came to him
and he carefully
built a chance

but knowing his
foe he tried to
insure his success

before finally she
saw that her hostile
country would suddenly
come to defeat

Do We Cheat 'Em?

Poetry books are filed in the library under
non-fiction.

Why?

Do poets tell only the truth?

And To See

he's mad enough at
society -- a good deal.

what about the sin?

then comes home too late. greet
it then. she may be staggering.

with his hands he threw the
rocks pelting the window.
dark outside but inside
light as he watches them;

as he logged everything.

Damn the Daylight

it gets
light too early.

grandmother up
first and cursing

damn the daylight

the hour
when they were in back
dreaming all by themselves

while she
looked at the clock
and shivered, thinking of
the early morning chill

Trouble (Disrupted)

out looking for trouble? do you need
to be reeled in?

it had been
all shades of restless
delicate nuances
no explanation, but we
had a word -- an inflection --
aware of the pressure
built up and counting
to two hundred and...

"now within seconds of it!"
just put it in like a torpedo
and keep him the man
he slept for about
half an hour as was required
like a capsule
disrupted

Newspaper Blackout Poem #1

The Office

"welcome"
amiable, careful

"up to date"
i didn't listen

"pay attention"
completely out of touch

"listen please"
jabbering at me

"manager," he said

[revised 3-14-10; originally posted 6-12-09]

The Past, Remembered

[originally posted 5-19-09]

Not too many years ago
well, maybe a hundred
or maybe less
well, sometime

Kitchen

[originally posted 6-10-09]

hard-board prone on the kitchen floor
immediately your words raised
from inaudible
so quickly i understand at last
having been yourself

honey
again and across and back

Times Square, 1973

[originally posted 7-16-09]

This poem was written to be submitted to a poetry contest (see below) but I missed the deadline by a day. Oh, well, I don't think this is exactly what they were looking for.

Bright Lights Big Verse: Poems of Times Square sponsored by the The Poetry Society of America and the Times Square Alliance to help celebrate Times Square, and the qualities that Times Square represents —- diversity, desire, dynamism and the marriage of commerce and culture —-through poetry.

A smell barely remembered reminds her
of the day when the two of them met
and went to a Times Square hotel. She
should have known better than to skip
lunch and pick him up. He sometimes
complained when she did. But the fashion
has changed, she said. In the room,
she imagined rather than felt
the breeze from an open window
that he gazed out, humming quietly.
She asked him to come nearer and like
a long fall slowed she reached out
and touched him and it stood up and
went hard into the pink and together
they moved rhythmically. They could not
stay with it long but he could move
as she moved and then he shivered slightly
and with delight shuddered. They turned
aside and she stared at the lights beyond
as if awakened on the other side.

Roldo the Fish-Headed Boy

[originally posted 10-22-09; written circa 1982]

Roldo was a boy
(that is, he was a young human
with a penis)
who differed from the rest of his society
in that he had the head of a fish

Roldo was a bright boy
he was good at math
and at reading and writing
and he could ride a bicycle like
nothing
but, still, he had the head of a fish

Other boys were often cruel to Roldo
girls, (young humans with vaginas)
were also cruel to him
they (the boys and girls) made up a song

The song was about Roldo
when he would ride by on his bicycle
they would sing:
Roldo the fish-headed boy
he’s so ugly we want to cry
he’s a fish and he should fry
and then they would laugh

The singing and laughing hurt Roldo
but he loved riding his bike too much to
stop

Roldo would often ride blocks
and blocks out of his way to avoid
other children and thus was sometimes
late in arriving at home
where he mother and father would be
anxiously awaiting his return

Mother and Father were worried about Roldo
they felt guilty about inflicting a fish-headed child
on the world and the world
on a fish-headed child
and they were afraid that something would
happen to him and somehow their guilt would be
revealed

But, still, they loved Roldo and when he would
return in tears they would hug and kiss him
and tell him that everything would be alright
and though they hadn’t really believed it
as the years passed things did begin to get better

Roldo’s fish-headedness became less and less
Until one day Roldo was just an average
boy
and went out riding his bike
and no one laughed or sang