Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Dear Maurice...

Over the years I’ve received countless letters from fans who write me under the pretense of praising my poetry but end up asking questions about God knows what. Because the questions have been so many and so varied I’ve decided to compile my “top 5 list“, including my replies, put together for your viewing pleasure. By the way, the names have been omitted to protect any finger of mental incapacity:

Question 1: Does a streetcar always have desire?

Answer: Only if the emergency brake can not comfort the coldest night. Don’t forget, there is an errand in the wooden benches that moondos the blonde in a starry sky, cushioning the sudden fall of a still-born. And if that’s habitually unclear, your headlight could be faulty.

Question 2: What determines a vibrant neighborhood?

Answer: You know it’s vibrant when graffiti dangles from the neck up then softly curves along an alchemist’s alley squeezed from a tube of liturgical language in rhapsody’s wound. And don’t forget your carnival mask.

Question 3: What are the chances of being car-jacked by a “hoax”?

Answer: The chances are voluptuous and dipped in lye then tossed into a venom-studded fiery miscalculation of vulgar notions that could cause even a duce to hic-cup. Than they ever were before or wearing those menacing fishnet stocking. Either way, the license plates will be switched.

Question 4: Where is the most delicious human “desert spot”?

Answer: That’s easy. It’s 10 miles outside of Tucson in a little chump of cactus where phantom is just another word for bird flu and any home could be a roost. At dusk the town seems especially hushed and rumors are on the breath of an inheritance. So which door do you choose?

Question 5: Does the term “latest buzz” have to do with hair?

Answer: Absolutely not. The term refers to footwear jewelry and is especially used to distinguish toe rings that have been canceled on account of rain. Sometimes there are cathedrals in the grassy heap but most often a moat is the gadget gone awry.

Did I say I have poems for you. Here, read them before you drift asleep:

Smut Cheater

Even at night with no lights on.
A baby cracks the mirror . Let’s just pretend.
I’m a dick dish who becomes a dog leash. I
Said “zoo” not “theme park”. Smut cheater. Let
The back door hit you…

An albino vamp with one egg too many.
Blue vase. Sky. Lake.

People often sleep in the rented houseboats.
In a brand new pair of peek-a-boo

(do you crime around here much?)

say yes

Unstill Life

Maybe the soul flies out the mouth.

A fox. Stunned by light. Make mine brothel
soup. Parts only air. Some think it joins
the clamor of it’s kind. That’s about as likely
as Ghaddsfi marrying Streisand.

Then why not have your palm read.
In footage of mud unreeling through my mind.

So some things exist but are not realized.

Imagine a thaw bigger than true bliss

(like graceful gazelles)

in leaps of faith.

These poems first appeared in print at: Monkey Kettle
Summer 2004 issue. Email at: monkey

Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.
Also visit my literary blog at:

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