Whitney Jones Olson

Rookie (August 14,1982 / Indiana)

It Is, Abstractions - Poem by Whitney Jones Olson

Your Name here:
Error code 2, please contact your program manufacturer
at Your Phone #, here:
That, sexless progeny (who disgorged me)
is not your name, here: It Is.

In another language this would never translate
so if You read this as a liberated Communist
eating a Royale with cheese
in the Sydney operahouse, with rotten pantyhose puppets making love
on your palsied lap
splashing fluids cheaply preserved,
forming an
oily coating on your porous seeping bosom
all this meeting the viscosity of ketchup,
dripped on your aureola -

wow, it's like i'm sitting there with you -
isn't it?
closer than safe sex,
mama never told you,
oh you poor; dumb bitch.

Listerine absolves e coli,
but not herpes,
and not ending the search for meaning;
never the 31 flavors of Christ's pre-packaged flesh.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about It Is, Abstractions by Whitney Jones Olson

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 2, 2006



[Report Error]