A QUAHOG FOR WALT BY ROGER FANNING

A QUAHOG FOR WALT

“‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said.”

How many inscrutable angels does it take to screw in
a lightbulb? None.

How many mice?
Two, but there’s not much room.

Two of Ma’s favorite expressions:
“It smelled like low tide at Coney Island.”
“She looked like the last whore at the clambake.”

One of Dad’s expressions:
“Your ass is grass.”
Jump the fence, Johnson grass can cut your feet.

Pisser clams seem nonplussed by my poems,
I’m volatile as a quahog in public.

I’m quiet at home too.
We eat, and are grateful.

Night, my head hits the pillow.
Night, I pray my gratitude
and a little fluid leaks out of my left ear,
relieving the pain. Lilac. Saguaro. Dandelion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have a couple books people might be able to find in used bookstores, THE ISLAND ITSELF and HOMESICK. I have a third book coming out in April of 2012, PLAGUE OF FROGS. God bless Russell Edson.

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