Two Bagels, To Go
Sitting on my lap
single crease across its flap
Is a warm paper sack
that contains a double snack
I will take it to my girl
and the fold she will unfurl
There’s a cinnamon for she
and an onion one for me
Archive for October, 2009
plagiarism
i’m stealing this poem from william butler yeats
he wrote this exact thing in eighteen ninety eight
he was all, flurbity blafferly smoo
just like i’m now writing balloobity clood
and he was like, hey, look at me, i’m a poet!
then he took a giant bite from a doughnut
i guess that’s the only place these poems conflict
unlike him i’m an onion bagel addict
19
10 2009
my tire, my onion bagel, my love
when you’re not round, i go nowhere
i’m flat and lifeless, needing air
when you’re not round, things feel so wrong all other shapes just don’t belong
when you’re not ’round, i’m out of whack so please be kind, and come right back
when you’re not round, things feel so wrong all other shapes just don’t belong
when you’re not ’round, i’m out of whack so please be kind, and come right back
17
10 2009
Charity
Some people on drugs get their brains all messed up
Some people on welfare get coins in their cup
Some people on short ends feel only defeat
Some people on hard times collapse in the street
If you care to rescue them from disarray, well – To start, you could offer them your onion bagel
If you care to rescue them from disarray, well – To start, you could offer them your onion bagel
16
10 2009
that onion bagel is a real a-wipe
it crashed my car, gave me this scar
and spread falsehoods about me,
it killed my cat and smooshed my hat
and sold our script without me,
it stole my wife and wrecked my life
and on my coattails coasted,
but i don’t mind, it soon will find
revenge is a dish best served toasted
14
10 2009
at the bagel shop – or – at the doctor’s office
wrapped in flimsy paper,
each crinkle-producing movement is amplified
you are examined, squeezed,
sometimes even cut
you wonder: do i look okay? do i smell like onion? do they ever turn the heat on in this place?
you don’t know what’s coming next and you grow colder with every second
you wonder: do i look okay? do i smell like onion? do they ever turn the heat on in this place?
you don’t know what’s coming next and you grow colder with every second
13
10 2009
Sonnet X
I’ve gripped a bagel curve or two before,
And though they all have let me get my fill,
As soon as each one’s gone I just crave more,
Which leaves me in a battle of the will;
For I know I could trace these lines all day,
Caressing them with fingers, lips and tongue,
Live out my years in fresh-baked ecstasy,
‘Til one day I’m no longer fresh and young;
Then, belly full and burping, I’d look back,
At all the onioned rings around my life,
And wonder, did this excess cause some lack,
In love shown to my friends, my kids, my wife?
Such thoughts provoke an emptiness profound,
Yet my mind can’t prevent them spinning round.
