Foto Abstracta 2663 El Creamundos - The Createworlds

Poetics: attempting to keep my genes on (and still make children) - Brian Miller

if the devil wears prada & God pearly white

i don't know where my jeans fit

(they're off the bargain rack)

but serve a purpose

at the end of the drive, the long grass

by the mail box post scratches at them,

cars whizzing past---

                              [shunk]

close the mouth & flip through the ads,

(it's all we get---these days)

'look at that!'

a flyer proclaiming they'll tell me

where my genes fit

for just 99 bucks & a bit of DNA

all from the convenience of my own home

which they'll disassemble like a buick,

anal-eyes each part to determine

just what will kill me---up to 209 possibilities,

sin-dromes you might pass on to your off-

spring, ancestral history, that

disease your great great great great

gramps kept (how great is that?)---what's

hiding under your hood,

nuts & bolts

                 already they tinker, fix the inner space

so the blurred line ends with the next man-

ufactured birthing

                        complete w/ pre-emptive cosmetic surgery

we need a checklist:

      athletic ability (check)

      asthma (nope)

      endowment (check, check, check)

      poetic (well, let me think on that)

nip/tuck----tick, tick, tick (BING!), schlupp out pops 

our uber child (widget)

              isn't (s)he cute

& if we're god, who's left to blame

                        when it all goes wrong

the emperor has no clothes on, 

            the devil wears prada

                 junk mail recycled

                                    & i'll

                                        keep my jeans on

(a little while at least)

BRIAN MILLER

crimson tongues ensnares

a lollipop, enchanting it

to azure hue

while

purple shadows playing

peek-a-boo

with verdant rabbits

dressed in coats.

far away I see

the pink horses

marching to a sound machine

and go boom boom bang

while high above

magenta tracks

from sluggish badgers

painting tic-a-toc

across a sky of

tangerine and green

and deep below

the ruby elephants are

served Martinis

(without olives)

-
and then I wake
(without even getting a sip)
—
May 25, 2013

NO MARTINI FOR ME - Björn Rudberg