| "I had many things to write, but I will not with ink and pen write unto thee..." |
| POETRYrepairs v07.09:124 |
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| ANTHONY LICCIONE Fleas swimming above these fleas at my feet, if using my big toe as a diving board, and into the pool of my skin looking for free blood- these backbiters, moochers–who let these little annoyances in my door, looking for an overcoat to slumber the night or month, a rug in the corner snug of warmth- snoring below, two fans blowing three flies buzzing in the basement of summer mildew, uncle stan sits, out of a job and still able to afford beer in his hand help-wanted ads, cigarette butts stamped out in a skull shaped ashtray. he always explains, they are looking for only experience, a little something to go along with a degree-- and I say why not bluff them, go to the library study the subject and bring it in the interview, do what you do well, tell a lie, frost it white- lay it out on the table feed them baloney and rye, and I say that even a dishwasher knows more than soap and water, sometimes he just gets under my skin, so much I would like to kick him out to the dogs. ANTHONY LICCIONE lives in Texas with his wife and two children. He has three collections of poetry: Heaven's Shadow (Foothills Publishing), Parched and Colorless (The Moon Publishing) and Back Words and Forward (Publish America). His forth book, Please Pass Me, the Blood & Butter is now available through Lulu Press. |
| "Poetry endangers the established order in the soul." |
| poetryREpairs v07.09:124 |
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| "Repair Your Mind...Read More Poetry!" |
| poetryrePAIRs v07.11:124 |
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| from poetryREpairs MM.11:128 BILL CARROLL The Briar Patch You can noose that tight tie around my worthless neck And hang me from the towering white oak, Br'er Fox. I've done you wrong and deserve it. Just don't throw me into that briar patch! It's okay! Make me haul that monogrammed briefcase downtown and back. Or strangle my no-account neck In a power necktie. After all the lowdown pranks I've played on you I deserve it But please, B'er Fox I begging you Just don't throw me into the briar patch! Jam me into a crowded commuter train At the peak of rush hour And e-mail me straight into the belly of the beast Lord knows I deserve much worse. Sentence me to a punch-the-clock chain gang Make me haul a hundred pound attach¾ case Up and down Sisyphus hill in polished wing tips. Hang me from the button down tree In a 9-to-5 necktie. But please, B'er Fox, Whatever you do I'm begging you, Don't throw me back into my briar patch! | ||||||||||||
| poetryrepairs v07.ii:124 |
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