First, slick back your hair with gasoline and slip an unlit cigarette between your pouting lips. Now, casually toy with the lighter. Remember: you are working with a snake that eats both its young and its tail. From time to time, actually let the flame approach your hair.
Kiss-me-not. He who grows hungrier the more he’s fed. Sunlight released from the prison of the tree. Rust on meth. Creature made of tongue and wing…
There is a reason why writers like the word “craft.” They evoke it as a kind of one-word incantation, a defense against chaos: the visionary…
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Given the media circles I inhabit as a poet and a translator, I probably hear some version of the assertion—"We need new myths"—on a seasonal basis. As…
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…they were relieved. Their lives had been placed, somehow, on the dashboard of a small car, his and hers, side-by-side, tossed on the dash like a pack…
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said Narcissus to everyone all of the time.
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Welcome to The Unspoken Jokebook by me, Michael Bazzett. Goat herder. Happy poet. \nThe ECHO CHAMBER,\ncoming soon from\nMilkweed Editions…

The Unspoken Jokebook