Needs Improvement (4 page)

Starting Out

 

 

Words

 

To a trusting rowdy

vagarious nerd

 

Amicably sexist

ravenous

 

Chronic prideless

imprudence

 

Roughest, raciest delivery

tireless fellatio

 

Sounds

 

Truthful ace sage

jingoist merit

 

In derisions,

off-centre defrauder

 

This worthy, shrewd, odd tormentor

sugarlike, soul-rending dear

 

Feelings

 

Deafen derisory scum

connectors noted with what?

 

Scenic nosiness

wrenches smoothly

 

It is me

I'm the merit

 

Topics

 

Wore it just above awe, truth

tame my icon, herpetic dad

 

A benign lamé

On My Way

 

 

Words

 

I'm a sorcerer's deathbed

I mean wow

 

Powerlessly

good acid

 

Sounds

 

As merry, hot, incontinent posers –

adroitly charmless

 

Rakishly mean

I'm the twist whose

 

Fetishes soothe cluttered semen –

mine sag

 

Feelings

 

Now, I'm a sad herocity

hence the wow art rant

 

Fend on

ache on

 

Smothery transmitter

wimp seethes

 

World famous

overactive saddening

 

Topics

 

Decent prude –

crossbred, unvaliant jailbait

 

Pathetic, loathsome tameness

on the tolerant Ferris wheel

 

Unusual hoodwink

if banality agitates

Wow!

 

 

Words

 

Just dither growths

sputter

 

Head mercenarily

ice cowards

 

Sounds

 

Secure smooth-tongued

best saint

 

Shh. I'm deft, mother!

white weakling / hot tyrannies

 

Dear me –

an egotism, ornately

 

Feelings

 

Now –

ace nihilist

prig poet

 

Unwelcoming

in stoic niceness

soft-heartedness

 

Topics

 

Strongish, passionate dickhead

filthy wit

 

Employ tolerant splendour

to a dearer emotion

 

Incisive apologetic frostiness

finer grins

 

Sour up, insular us

oh, strip us

‘These supple lines sing the song of joyous forgetting. And
deftly so in their deftness.'

– A. Snyder Pierce,
The Madison Poetry & Bridge Review

*

‘Thrumming fiercely with the might of a thousand thrums,
Drexler Jr. soars to new heights and delves down to mine the
thrumming deep thrum of the soul.'

– J. Hillis Drexler Sr.,
Conjun(x)ion

*

‘The thoughts imbedded in these feats of acrobatic high-wire
dexterity are dexterous to be sure. And impressive, too.'

– Rory Gramercy,
The Quill Dipper

*

‘A veritable tai chi of the mind! What Glennis achieves is
beyond startling. The single most important book of lipogrammatic
neologisms of the last ten years!'

– Paul Feaston Anders,
Grand Central Review of Verse

*

‘This book, if it is fair to call it a book, which, indeed it is, ranks
among the top books in the category of books I have recently
endorsed.'

– Kim Winton, booksendorsed.blogplace.org

*

‘Here journeys a poet who is not new to the journey, nor is she
afraid of the end. What a pleasure to see her still journeying!'

– Anthony Benadryl,
metaverse monthly

*

‘A kindling, then a fire in the form of still life. The perplexities
of arrival and departure. The fragmented wholeness. Read and
reread. Then read again. Then reread.'

– Alejandro Berkowitz, scanbooks.to

*

‘The human meme. What Tennant has discovered is the human
meme. And long may it last!'

– X∆nder ∆,
Praxis

*

‘The intelligence and emotion here is otherworldly, as though
it were imported from some sort of other world.'

– Felicity Dueck,
Prairie Longboard

*

‘Alternative histories explode here in these pages. And how!'

– Marilyn Brownshoe,
The New Querying

*

‘All this beauty achieved with aplomb. One wonders how
Masters continues to live up to his name by being such a, well,
master.'

– Braden Leftwich,
Field and Stream Poetry Supplement

*

‘Who couldn't forgive us for falling to our knees and proclaiming
that we are willing to do anything to keep this magic from
ceasing? No one. That's who couldn't.'

– Noam Grammerly-Wright,
pervspective

*

‘This is poetry woven out of the finest threads and concocted
in the most exclusive coven!'

– Alice Feathertop,
Wiccan Poetry Weekly

*

‘What resides in minutiae and warmth? The poetry of Giorgio
ravolo. Its visions pop in the rough corners of the deftness of
his nimble mind.'

– Costa Nicola,
Sicilian Standpoints

*

‘The verse of Sandor Magnolia is, to put it quite bluntly,
human-shaped.'

– Robby Dylan,
Poetry, Thunder Bay

No, I don't want to stay at your place.

I need time and space and odder hours to deal with

a spectacular national celebration unequalled

since Expo '67 in Montreal. It's not fair to

expect me to adhere to your eccentricities.

No, I don't want to stay at your place.

I will have my own. What a city! But no.

I'm coming. But no. I can't possibly stand

a spectacular national celebration unequalled

since the 1851 World's Fair in London.

I found a hotel. It's cheap. A legacy project. Moda. So

no, I don't want to stay at your place.

Travel, uneasy. Your city, stifling.

Everyone clamours their cultural capital there, at

a spectacular national celebration unequalled

since Deculturation. I will write a poem, meet for whiskey.

You will bring me a gift and i will get sick and you will insist, but

no, I don't want to stay at your place.

I'm sure it's spectacular, unequalled.

He's a victim of planned adolescence

never quite equipped, a shy man

recursive, explicit, dismissive.

Training-wheel reason

and militant obsolescence confirms

he's a victim of planned adolescence.

Drones and drowns in dregs of position.

He's a tethering device, a wireless frail man.

Recursive, explicit, dismissive

of growth of reason of pleasure.

The ailing therapist's notes are clear –

he's a victim of planned adolescence.

A kind of old early that's best

synthesized through tropes that sing the

recursive, explicit, dismissive –

one red
Lego brick, calculator watch, burner (phone),

commemorative 1976 Olympics tumbler, generic name tag.

‘Hello, my name is

recursion.'