Profound Dream

chainsaw-wielding clown
caught crispy in a twist of cinnamon
come my clown
come and dance
on the bed of rusty petunias

it must mean something
when the rabbit
and the other rabbit
and the third rabbit
and the penguin
fountain upward in mists of violet
and scream imprecations at the porcupine

burn the clown of dissent
burn the clown of remorse
and watch out
for the epic dystopian spy plot
in which I play at least four parts

good night clown
good night brown
rabbit in the pasture
with the rain coming down

Bass Clef

O bass clef of doom
how you torture me

nefarious bass clef
do I find it so hard to read you
while the treble clef seems natural
like birdsong
or waffles

I know basically what you mean
but still I struggle
and I stop in the middle of a piece
to anxiously count your lines
and ensure that that really is a G

I can play by ear like crazy
O bass clef of terror
but whenever I sight read
you are lurking there
smiling your cruel smile

Curses on the head
of the evil fiend
who decided the bass and treble clefs
had to be all different for some reason

bass clef
you bastard


you drop
your music stand
on your foot
pointy end down
and it bounces
onto your other foot
still pointy
end down
and you spend
three days
trying to make
the situation
but fail
and are left with
foot pain
and anger
then you
have truly partaken
of the tragedy
of human


I woke up this morning
and there were rainbows all over the Internet
rainbows everywhere
on all the pages
and bouncing all over Twitter
and sneaking into the Facebook avatars
all rainbow-like

and I thought
hey weird
I wonder what’s up with all these rainbows
and I went to have breakfast
and blowed if there weren’t rainbows in my cereal
and floating in my glass of orange juice

I said
this seems like a trend
and I turned around to find
that my clothes had turned into rainbows
which has admittedly become a bit of a problem
so if anyone has some pants I can borrow
please let me know

I have managed to turn one of the rainbows—
the one that used to be my bathroom door—
into an awesome laser that also makes little tiny unicorns
so now I have unicorns all over my apartment
and they are five inches high and like to cuddle in my rainbow blankets
as we binge-watch ‘80s TV on Netflix

I am expecting eventually the rainbows will become less obvious
and the unicorns will wander off to form a civilisation
and I will get my pants back
but for now
it’s kind of fun to have rainbows everywhere
and no pants anywhere
and extra unicorns for all

Tape That Doesn’t Stick

Confounded tape:
you do not stick to things.
The very fact that you are sold as “tape”
suggests that your sole purpose
in fact
to stick to things
so why wouldn’t you?

Are you a metaphor
or perhaps a simile
for something profound?
Do you represent
a vast and terrible meaning
far beyond your limited physical existence?

I wish you wouldn’t
since at the moment
I have nothing
with which to seal this package
and things are falling out of it

The Starcats Are Mine Now

I have stolen her starcats
oh yes
stolen them and made them mine
and I shall ride them
all over this poem

She thinks she can go and
invent starcats and claim
they love her
only her
but the starcats are mine now
because I really like the word “starcats”
and I am an evil jealous possessive
terrible poet

She can’t have them back
she doesn’t deserve them
her hair is not blue enough
and doesn’t stand for anything
and she probably wants to eat the starcats
and I would never do that
or almost never
and that is all that counts

I didn’t really steal the starcats
because they were mine all along
and you can’t prove they weren’t
you nasty suspicious person
with your bulging eyes
and lack of starcats
in your heart

This awful poem is dedicated to Sandra Kasturi, who does actually continue to be the Mistress of All Starcats.


is like a bucket of frog sperm
accidentally stolen
from the refrigerator of an over-enthusiastic scientist
and dumped randomly down a storm drain
in the middle of April

It is also
like a party thrown by a lost puppy
who has happened upon a mansion
abandoned by its owners
who belong to the mob
and are fleeing for their lives
because somebody ratted somebody else out to the cops
and all the superheroes are on vacation

It is not at all
like a broomstick
with a mouse balanced on it
and a little basket containing a single raspberry
balanced on the mouse

But it could be said to be somewhat
like a discarded coffee cup
glazed with rain
beside the white