The Poem I Wrote In My Room After We Fought On The Internet And You Called Me A Dick And Said You Had To Go To Sleep And Said You Would Email Me Over Thanksgiving From Home But Then Said ĎForget Ití After I Said About You Emailing Me Over Thanksgiving From Home That ĎI Doubt Ití
A metal rod a lot longer than my head
can fit easily in my head.†
I donít want to think about it.† I want to rearrange furniture
using telekinesis.† I will make my bed
go through a wall.† My bed will bump people
at Whole Foods, in the cereal aisle.† ĎSorry,í my bed will say, and feel ashamed.
And cereal will feel ashamed.† But what would happen
if you were a non-sentient being.† And I was god.†
I think an unrelated third-party would suffer.†
I think I would like to break all the secret records.†
The one for most consecutive days of quality over quantity.†
Or just into your email
account.† Because I like you very much, it is sad
that if I were you
you would be someone else.† A disaster I think just happened
in the room that I am currently in.† But I didnít see.† And it was sleeping
when it happened.† And it didnít happen.† Carp had a secret.†
It involved a beautiful muffin, a reoccurring dream,
and a kind of yearning that causes muffin shops to go non-profit.
Carp donít have that anymore.† Last week I saw TV snow when no TV was in the room.†
I was staring at my pillow.† My head was on it.† When I was four
I stabbed live fish
in their faces.† Every fish I stabbed
went to secret heaven.† Secret heaven is the one where
the other heaven is called secret heaven.† At night in secret heaven no one knows what to do.
Sometimes in secret heaven everyone is afraid of secret heaven.†
My bed is thinking about secret heaven.†
Washington Mutual Is A Bank That Is Everywhere
I had an urge one hour ago.† To write poems
that make no sense, and
I felt happy.† Stabbed
by hooded black youth.
Shocked by the willingness of grade-schoolers
to kill me.† And eat my heart.† The things that do not happen to me
each day.† I feel
like shit.† My life
is good, fantastic.† I am not deformed.† Thank you.†
There should be something about you
in this poem.† But
there is just me, being stupid.
Putting shampoo on things.† My roommateís shampoo.† Uncouth.† My heart
is a bar of soap.† White, flashing.† Soap
is clean.† Admit it.† That it will kill you
if you eat it
probably.† I mean, look
at this poem.† Where are you.† I love life.† November.† Wonderful.† The sun.† A cloud
just said something.† I donít know what it said.
I wasnít paying attention.† I donít care.
Tao Lin's collection of poetry, You Are a Little Bit Happier Than I Am, will be published by Action Books in October, 2006; his collection of stories, Bed, will be published by Melville House in Spring, 2007; and a chapbook will be published by Future Tense Books in Summer, 2006.† Tao is the author of This Emotion Was a Little E-Book and his web site is Reader of Depressing Books. He lives in New York City.
Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/lint_poems.htm