by Red Dog Pieface, Peter Bailey

This publication of Possibles is by Chris Church.

End of a Poem

and in the parking lot
O! the peacocks
screaming their heads off
at their reflections
in the hubcaps

two zits
being zitty
in their zittiness
draws me closer to you




Out of My Life (As in Get

Farewell. You occupy more

of my time while here

than I do.

(Pushpins dropped into the typewriter, indeed!)


to clamber up other’s pinnacles, cribs, taxes.


«Hey, Mom, when I grow up

                                             will my tits grow up?




Spiritual Shit-Kick

           for Prince Amah-of-the-Bridge

be prepared for “poems, poems, poems”
being pulled out of your ass when
you didn’t even know you were stuck
up by teenage hoodlums there
                                              little sprouts who quote like you
messages burned into stiff leather cuspidors you’d always
assumed were formed by non-winged angels from
the softest ruffs of swans born in mule-
                                                                  shit dropped
upon the horns of a moon goosing every other mother prepared for “poems, poems, poems”
                                            stars    stars    stars
over, over, over
us all





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Copyright © 2000 by Peter Bailey