Thursday, September 14, 2006

Mark Yakich


* * *

I feel like biting somebody

Against the bedpost
I know a lot of people like myself

Who like myself sometimes
But it's hopeless to

Split affairs into hair
Colors I'm always thinking about

The next porn and not
The porn I'm with

If I think about it
I would say that that

Is the key to my psychology
The perfect insertion

Can't be just one insertion
Everyone has lots of insertions

Inside of him or her
But I've never been

Inside of anyone
If you know what I mean

Then explain it
Back to me please

* * *

All day and a night

I'd like to yank down my pantalones
But what's the use of abusing

You when there's no give and take
Possible for the race of

White pages I know
If I want affection

I should go to the bank
And stand underneath the cameras

If I want a good meal with friends
I should call up mother and ask her

To watch TV with me long distance
Which isn't sad

It's technological
And even since she died I don't

Believe in life or death
Sentences or these words either

* * *

Hope lied about where it came from

Tee he he what else
Is in me but queer song

In the morning I eat a lot
Of apples with their tags still on

In the afternoon I might
Steal a leaf from the neighbor's

Tree and in the night
I might climb onto the garage

Roof to get a better view
Of the neighbor he has a lot

Of friends who bring him gifts
And sometimes they play

Loud music and sometimes
They sing and I sing

And sometimes sometimes
Separates the idea

Of dying from death
If and only if I'm able

To lie daily I'm able
To kill something that isn't me

Before it kills me
This is terrible that

I have to make such rhetorical
Turns sometimes that

Turn can turn into a tune
But not a very good one

The good ones move me
And that's a shame

Because I'm moved to sing

Mark Yakich is the reality behind