newark, newark

in a room made of clouds
that are horny, so close to rain
a pulsing red rotary phone
the size of my shrink-ray’d body     rings

“i just finished married a communist”
 i tell philip roth, “i really liked it”
“shut up you dumb bitch,” says philip roth,
“you’re a big smelly dick and tits now”

everything reflex & flashes in gunpowder
i cough snot on the receiver & am hard

im a big smelly dick and tits now
“i love it philip thank you” i say
“i love you like this,” says philip,
“i could kiss you.”

im not gay, he says.
no philip, you aren’t.
but i’m so close to being gay.
yes, you’re so, so close philip.
thank you gwendolen

 
pagliacci’s pepe

candy coats the roof
of your house is on fire

(the blue kind of fire)

it ummmm looks really good on you??

that photo of you cowering in fear
by the fridge in tight jeans
and grip socks — that one too

i believe you that in 2008 at warped tour
an adult swim producer stole your ideas
five of which became tv shows 
and all the proof of this was deleted
by your old podcast partner
who mysteriously disappeared
one summer afternoon in mississippi

here i made you a gift:
          a tricycle circle!
          a tricycle circle!
          a tricycle circle!

say it out loud, k?

i thought you’d like that
wherever you are, know this:

recently i’ve been on a clown kick