Poems from Nancy BookBy Tom Miller
beer
there’s an empty glass
wishing it had beer
so it could become useful
wishing it could bring itself
to my lips and quench me
kiss me
an empty glass needs meaning too
just like me
beer would solve
both our problems
roget’s pocket thesaurus
I was looking for a word meaning
thesaurus
this book didn’t have it
I expected better for $2.95
hell
I could go down to 6th street
and get a blow job for $2.95
or head or sucked off or
whatever they’re calling it
these days
there’s something about a guy and his dick
he’s proud of his dick
it points the way
sometimes down
sometimes straight ahead
into the magic center
or the warm place with tongue
sometimes the taboo place
it points the way
it makes decisions
it says
be stupid
stick it in here
or here
keep it out of there
that place is no good
it knows what it’s doing
hell
it would talk if it could
little lips would open and say
I want him and I want her
and I want you
it knows
when you love yourself too much
if it can’t go
there or there or there
it wants you to
use your other hand
so it feels like someone else’s
it wants you to
wrap it with rubber
coat it with jelly
stick it in fruit
wave it at the old ladies
wave it at the little girls
the little boys
it tells you these things
and you listen
you obey
you trust your dick
despite yourself
in spite of yourself
you follow your dick
after all
it’s your best friend
you envy it
it has more courage
more stamina
more passion than you
there’s something about
a guy and his dick
a special bond
a connection
a relationship where
lover and loved are one
the only way to shame it
just for a moment
to get your senses back
is to go to the park
find a small dog
with a bigger dick than you
when you see that
run as fast as you can
with luck
you’ll leave your
mortified dick behind
and remember you once
were human
I feel it
going down
down
back in the trash
with the cheap beer
and the filthy smokes
yes
and nobody to
fuck me up
no love
or passion
just walls and walls
to climb over
or bury with words
say
goodbye to
good times
and hello heaven’s
hell
screaming
in the dark
I like it again
it’s fresh
it’s new
like
pissed in snow
and baby’s
first slap in the ass
and
the prom queen
with cum on her tits
grotesque parade
first in line
the midgets
followed by
the drag queens and
the leather men all greased up
rubbing their tight bulges
against each other’s bulges
pressing their mouths
hot against
teeth and tongue and spit
and after them
a big balloon
in the shape of a fat dick
spraying confetti
on the crowd
and then the lesbians
sucking tit and cunt
with ferocious abandon
their backs to the men
throwing out candy
with milk centers
the lesbians are the smelliest float
except for the jesus float
with a jesus man waving bread
drunk on wine
the small boys wash his feet
and there is a float of mud
and a float of men making promises
and a float of angels covered in shit
and holding up the rear
is the poet parade
dragging their pages like crosses
heavy with the weight of words
they fall behind
the procession moves through the streets
through the throngs of children
and old men
through the bitter faces life molds
with its cold blue hands
there is no music
I’m not that clever
or so he said
from the couch
and I said,
"yeah. not that clever,
am I?"
and drank my beer
and wrote my poem
about him
and how clever he was
sitting on the couch
wasting his time
on a bum like me
and I didn’t give him
any beer
even though he was right
nero fiddled - rome burned
I’ll play kazoo
while hogtown
sinks into
the swamp
screaming
for its life
while hogtown
is devoured by gators
while hogtown
spits the last man out
zwee zwee zwee
zwee zwee zwee zwee
what I think about jazz singers
there’s a point
in jazz singing
where the singer
begins to improvise
using such terms as
zoo-bu-dee doo-wap
doodlee dwapa dee-dap
this form of singing
is known as scat
and every hunter knows
that scat means bullshit
which is what they look for
before they shoot
continue...