Max Roach
Your Dutch bicycle into
whose golden rectangle, which
easily could have charted.
We turn and ferret,
vengeful and assaulting.
Squatted by a dirty Dutch biker atop the ledge
in the fat sun. Smurf!
Otherwise you’re jinxed as the alternate
take of your house dub
of the clown-mouth
meant to pick your brain
loafing in a hammock.
Stuffed into a snatch
in the form of
great piles of bananas.
Don’t ride off on a platter of
bush-meat with trimmings.
Some bumblebee might crawl back in
between our hot renditions.
I’m unwashed right there.
Accepting extra fortunes. In bed.
You Are the Carpet, And I Am the Drapes
Everyone is going to get pissed in
Beverly Hills. Not the good part; the
Olive Garden version of San Francisco.
Next year, the pageant will be held in
Yreka’s Hyatt ballroom.
the prom didn’t go well last night:
I shot a big beaver at everyone.
Volare, it sang. My beaver sang pure
olive juice, and all of the villagers
ran for cover. Godzilla, they
yelled. They called me Godzilla.
D.A. Powell's most recent books are Repast (2014) and Useless Landscape, or A Guide for Boys (2012), recipient of the National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry. He lives in San Francisco.
Ryan Courtwright earned his MFA from Columbia College. His personal and collaborative work can be found in The Sonora Review, The Normal School, Maggy Poetry, Anti-, Pleiades: A Journal of New Writing, Lo-Ball Magazine, Columbia Poetry Review, and Pistola Magazine among others. He lives in San Francisco where he works as an Editor.