Monday, May 14, 2012

NEW! Two poems by Robin Clarke

Robin Clarke

My mother is a fish
my father is a car

the book is blank
with acts one never could

by the time I was born
Terminator no longer

wanted anything except
work (455-5533)

ancestries, German Irish
Slovak Italian Polish

English (3.6%)
this is your reward for

pumping all that money in
the engine: historical

styles of drinking for the mass
production of then we could


"Minor" for "miner," bulldozer
for "working up alternatives"

how many engineers get
hepatitis C after all?

How many cashiers cum laude?
Your case may be isolated

call me president of
evasive answers, it's true

my grandma took the dashes
from Emily Dickinson's

so I could be born
safe slash sound where the kids are

often nine but never cry
when little lovely ends

just pretend, text the corpse, don't
think I'm that smart, praying

waist deep in the speed of light
is the rocket that could launch

a thousand Donald Ducks
Mickey Mouses, waves, whatever

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