Modeling Oneself After Jesus, in the Front Lawn

I am going to crucify myself on the pine tree
outside my home. I want to shimmy up the trunk
and press my hands through two branches.
With my arms outstretched and my chest pressed
against the trunk, I would appear to be hugging
the tree during the day, and I would seem like
some jutting bark during the night. My blood
would always look like dripping sap against the bark
and pine cones, so my parents wouldn’t notice
I’m bleeding to death and bring me down.


The President and The Dear Leader Engage in a Dick-Measuring Competition

Their penises resemble shiitake mushrooms,
but press their tips into their testicle sacs
and they spring up like flowers, full of seed.

A Potomac Oneiric

Orange juice laps down Pennsylvania
Avenue, and people touch their lips
to the flood to lap up the pulp.

No one quite knows where
the juice flows from. All that people
know are clues murmured on
gusts of the autumn wind.

With all the townsfolk distracted,
the Pied Piper breaks into homes
and steals away baby photos in a sack.

With no one looking, Fatty Arbuckle
continues his one-man protest
outside the Supreme Court, praying
aloud for an appeal.

He smells citrus in the breeze,
hears the shatter of glass,
and still he stands,
as the townsfolk whisper
next to a river.