For the 792 male readers of poetry in the United States

Appeared in PEARL (q.d.e.p.), a print journal, in 2011:
 

For the 792 male readers

of poetry in the United States

Since we are so few in number

I thought it might be nice to have a space of our own

to discuss important things

things of relevance to male poets:

like sports and naked women

So if you’re female please stop reading

Now that they are gone

let’s discuss the relevance of sports

in the realm of poetry

which is not much

and if you were to tell your sports buddies

that you read poetry

they would call you a pussy

though I might argue that both sports and poetry

are about pushing the limits of what is human

except that the competition between poets is much higher

As for the second relevant thing

my thesis is that naked women are a good thing

while the antithesis of naked women is clothed women

and this too is a good thing

therefore the ideal synthesis is partially-clothed women

especially partially-clothed women who like our taste in poetry

though it’s not a question of taste really

they’re probably just grateful we like it period

or they should be

and since we all know they kept reading

even though I told them not to

because women are like that

we hope that they are smiling now

in that slightly pitying yet mostly loving way they have

and that they do this while partially-clothed

It was never a dress....

And this because it's so cool:

Pyschos Assemble! Avengers Review!

Psycho Drive-In assembled some of us to group-review Avengers: Age of Ultron. Spoilers abound:

While We're Young—movie review

My review of While We're Young, up now at Psycho Drive-In:

LA LUCHA: The Story of Lucha Castro and Human Rights in Mexico

My review of LA LUCHA: The Story of Lucha Castro and Human Rights in Mexico, now up at COMICS BULLETIN. Click on pic to go:

For Cigarettes

Appeared in BLACK HEART way back in April 2007 for Erotic Poetry Day:
 

For cigarettes

For a pack of cigarettes he let me see his sister naked

through a hole between their rooms

at first when he checked he said she wasn’t doing anything

I looked she was on her bed talking on the phone reading a fashion magazine

we waited reading comic books, he would check every ten minutes

then finally he said alright and I knelt down and looked again

she took off her jeans and t-shirt then her bra and panties

put on different underwear, white cotton for shiny black

black tights black skirt red shiny blouse high heel shoes

brushed her hair gold earrings red lipstick

looking at herself like she knew she looked good

A car honked outside and she left

we waited hours playing video games listening for the click of her door

I’d never stayed up that late before

for one of my comic books he let me watch again

she opened her window sat on the bed crossed her legs lit a cigarette

blew the smoke out into the night and watched it

undressed in front of the mirror

folding the blouse and skirt bending to put them in a drawer

her underwear smooth and shiny on the floor

she put on her white panties and the t-shirt and turned out the light

we went to bed too in sleeping bags on the floor

I waited till he was asleep got out in my underwear

went to the hole stared at the darkness

wondering if she knew about it, if she ever looked

listening for anything only hearing his slow breathing

1st page of a rough draft for a novel

First page of a new longer fiction piece I'm working on. This is about two revisions in, as I continue to add to the larger manuscript. Tell me what you think!

Thursday

ComiCon is a dream, a nightmare, a chaos, a masquerade and therefore a reality. ComiCon is a sub-culture, a culture, a world, a nostalgia, a childhood dream where women walk around in tight bodysuits, and where men show people the type of hero, superhero, they would really be if they could just stop eating so many Doritos. There are parties every night at ComiCons, and a ComiCon itself is one big party.

I hate parties.

I should stay in my hotel room and write, work on a script due soon. But I’ve been invited to a private party tonight, every night of the Emerald City ComiCon actually, and the comics biz is very much about networking. A comic book is team effort, and you need to know people to have a team. I am the Grinch of ComiCons, and am constantly amazed that people there welcome me with their costumed arms.

ComiCon officially unofficially begins tonight, Thursday, with the first party, for those locals in the know, and those of us creators (writers and artists) and editors and publishing folks who have come in early, which is most of us. One of the big publishers (not the big big ones, the Big Two, but the big medium ones) takes on hosting chores at a local watering hole each night.

Weather today in Seattle was surprisingly nice, with actual sun when my train arrived in the station early afternoon. After I check into my hotel room, I go for a quick run down on the along the piers, dodging traffic and tourists and other runners, the Olympic peninsula and mountains actually visible, across the bay—most other times I’ve been here they’re in the clouds. And how ComiCon-esque to be able to see Mount Olympus rising to the west. You’d almost expect to see gods or superheroes (which are our gods) flying around.

After my run and a glorious hot shower, I even have some few hours in the afternoon to walk around downtown and be somewhat normal. Though of course, nerd that I am, my main destination is Elliot Bay bookstore, uphill climb right past the Convention Center actually, where I poke around looking at books without pictures, though there was a graphic novels section, with one of my books, my Aquaman compendium. It isn’t that big of a section, so that fact that a book of mine is featured is something. There are bigger comics stores in town, which I may or may not get around to visiting this weekend. As a reward to the bookstore for carrying me, and to be subversive and potentially thrown out, I take out a sharpie and secretly autograph it: Dear Elliot Bay: Aquaman was right!!! —Mark Singer