Ezra's girl
I ate a bunch
of sparrows,
feathers
poke through
my arms and
my legs,
I am like a
down pillow,
lay your head
on me,
I am sparrow,
I am mottled duck,
I am painted bunting,
I spit out feathers
I pluck them
from our hair,
we happily
fall asleep
Everyone's Faking it
Janice from
the Sopranos
does not have a
"Rolling Stones"
tattoo, the mink
stole for sale at
the department stores
are made of
"polymeric fibers"
I got a fake death
notice in my email,
which turned out to be
a virus, and I just found out
the other day that they faked
the moon landing on a studio
set using a bunch of sand they
hauled in from Santa Monica
and some aluminum
pie plates, but this poem
is real, and so are these
pancakes right in front of me
and the fork that i'm using
to eat them.
Ernest Hemingway never killed himself
neither did Hunter Thompson
or David Foster Wallace,
don't believe everything
you read,
Hemingway did not use a shotgun,
Sylvia Plath did not use
an oven incorrectly,
don't be fooled,
Roger Ebert stated
right before he died
that reality was
"an elaborate hoax,"
I've seen these people,
hanging out at hot wings joint
a few blocks from my
house,they get a little
rowdy, as people who
fake their own suicides
tend to get,
horrible at Karaoke,
they are a tad selfish
and gobble up
all the french fries
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