i'll have a book, please

so who knew sending my book
to a couple plucky kids from kansas
would lead to me being a published poet.
huge thanks to the poetry editor there, geoff
something, and to the judge magda debünk. stagg
hill was a huge help too, an old friend i'd made in cali.
it's one of those things where you make a contact and
never think that contact will pay off. at a bar fight in
big sur, i wrestled two jerk poets off stagg's back and
lo, he delivers me publication one score later. pays to
step in when someone's wielding a pool stick. and here
i thought i'd masterbated all my major contacts away
through years of dodging people to spend my days
in an undershirt cleaning specks of food from dishes
and blowing bread crumbs from my toaster. the book
should be out in 2010, or early '11 and that's cool.

steven miller sent me a nice letter, even though
i smacked his kid at a louisiana, ks fundraiser
for taking celery from the platter and putting it back.
he got a little heated, i know, but in the end his kid
didn't do it the rest of the night and his press ended
up publishing my little book anyhow. steven turned
out to be a good guy, if not a bad father. but that
munsterman guy, he's a hoot. what a waste of tissue.
he actually took me to a dog racing track, put nachos
in my lap, and left with a wad a money after his bet
on "who's on first" paid dividends.

but the book. i'm elated it is going to happen, but
not as elated to have to go out and shill for myself.
i don't expect that little kansas press to be able
to do anything for me other than supply the books
and list me on their facebook pages. and what's with
this facebook? why don't they just post nude pics
of themselves, give out their social security and credit
card numbers, relate their fears and fetishes, and
get on with it. all this privacy out there, and in such
an uninteresting, non-creative way. if facebook was
a poem, it would need revising hardcore to the ultra-max.

if it was a movie, it would be a tv movie shown once
and never again. if it was a radio show, it would be seacrest.
if it was a soda, it'd be crystal pepsi. if it was an article
in a woman's magazine, it would be ten ways to please
your man who reminds everyone of your father know
never could be pleased and now you've grown a sexual
attachment to his younger doppleganger. my book will
not sell a copy, won't make me one red cent, won't earn
praise for leaning house, won't change the world. but,
maybe i can use it as a coaster, and coast through life
with the knowledge that someone may have read it.

cellar door, drew barrymore?

phrases i like:

awesome possum

confetti yetti

dross moss

spectacular vernacular

on a whim pseudonym

intrepid dipper

caustic acrostic

finger sandwiches

see you latersville

pick up my hiccup

monotone ice cream cone

smattered with hatter

blade in the shade

pelvis harvest

loose caboose

cowbell smell

forest porridge