POEMS BY: ANDY HALL

Choking Poem

When an adult is choking...

Smile at them,
tell them "you'll get over it,"
that "you feel their pain."
Pat them on the back,
kiss them abruptly on their vomit covered lips,
swallow their putrefaction; it is like sharing a glimpse into their soul.
Tell them it's a good day to die.
Take pictures of them wheezing and post it on the net.
Pour them a stiff drink, for soon they too will be stiff.
Give them a jalapeno pepper.
Talk about the weather.
Tell them you had a bad day too.
Whisper "Derek Jarman Squeezes Charmin... Pass it on!" in their ear.
Fold your arms and glare at them like an angry mother and say "now stop it."
Take a deep breath and exhale, maybe do yoga in front of them.
Eat an apple, and talk to them with your mouth full.
Give them a big hug.
Sing the Battle Hymm of the Republic backwards to the beat of their gasps.
Make like Jim Morrison making love with Mohammed Ali: Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, fuck the butterfly, kill the bee.
Become the choker, make it a dance.
Give them a death poem, make it good since your words will be the last thing they hear.

Martha in a Jar

I am having a sex appointment with Martha Stewart. She is cleaning me up, making me prim and proper. My teeth have never been flossed so well, my hair never so symmetrical.

There is not an ounce of bacteria on my body;
all the dust mites have fled, screaming in terror. When I come, I do not come into a Condom,
but I expel the fluids into a tube which flows

into a special jar of fluids she keeps of all the men and women she has been with. There is blood in there, maybe the ocean. When she's alone, she stares at the jar and wonders how she might separate the many juices.

Eventually, she takes it and tosses out the window, when walking by goes the ghost of Wallace Stevens.

PS. See Martha in this weekend's LIFE pullout in your local newspaper!

Inside Joke

I am a late bloomer. I wasn't even born until a year ago. I just left home for the first time yesterday. Now it’s time for Kindergarten. Everyone is telling me to show, don’t tell. Why don’t they show me how? I don’t understand the world. I don’t understand girls. I don’t understand my own body. When I close my eyes to go to sleep, isn’t that death? I talked to a snake the other day. He wasn’t going to bite me. He told me to watch my step. The starling outside my window wanted in, kept on pecking at the pane. I said no, because when you let the birds in, the whole universe is soon to follow, and I don’t have room for the universe in my life. I like the empty space. The loneliness, the blank walls. I ‘m still playing house with imaginary friends. If I had a puppy, I’d probably name him dog, or perhaps, he’d name me something. I would love my dog, but I would not marry it. But if I did, we’d have a great big wedding, but the church would probably frown upon it. Would you shoot me if I told you it was because of the dogma? Did you get it? I did, but it took me a while.