Reverse Cowboy Hexapod Viking (by William Merricle)

 

Reverse Cowboy Hexapod Viking

Fragments of goodness and mercy glare blue,
sad for having wasted my despair. Don Juan
Quixote’s flirting at windmills again. Thunder
has no need to rehearse. Life carries cancerous
specifications. Bend the rod while it’s still hot.
The graveyard’s made from the alphabet. The fact
that the cockroaches are uneasy is cold comfort.
The tide knows I’m innocent, but it doesn’t care.
The flagellum has Gnostic overtones. I hear
my heart is shameless. A calving glacier groans
a verse. Oh new season, help me sleep less badly.
I’ll never forget the night we huffed the mildew

remover and jumped over a series of candlesticks.
Please try to look like you aren’t hiding
a tray of nightcrawlers in your smile.
Lunchmeat hunts for the nature of truth
in the back of the fridge. Yonder lies the fodder
of my cattle. No one could tell if it was the end
of the funeral. Knowledge says anything to show
besides that crust of dried blood? As with all myths,
the stains are downright creepy. Under the bed,
the pods have plans for us. In the Greyhound,
the comedian silently weeps. The seashore
tersely shreds documents relating to our origin.

 

* * *

William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“Reverse Cowboy Hexapod Viking” © 2015 by William Merricle, used with permission

 

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Romance Is a Problem Too Massive to Fix (by William Merricle)

 

Romance Is a Problem Too Massive to Fix

Nobody’s saying
we ought to slow down.
All we’re saying is
we ought to turn and run.
Tears fall into spilled milk.
Redemption policy available upon request.
For a time I wished everything would die

in a state of joy.
Circumstances changed and now I’m naked
and trussed on the warm hood of an Impala
heading home to a wall.
Romance is a corporate entity too big to fail.
I was dreaming about cloud design
and lost my love again.

At the back of the crowd
someone was saying,
“Let’s dress the emperor.”
Once the facts had been established
the records were destroyed.
We desired a desire
that would stick to the ribs.

Ruthless in El Paso
wraps her legs around my skull
so hard I can see the abyss of heaven
but not quite reach it.
Sometimes the heart needs
to be told to shut up
and run.

God says I must forego my last quarter
of a century
and thanks me for being
part of the team.
As a loyal follower,
I must say I was disappointed
when his final tweet

consisted of 140 interrobangs.
Nobody’s saying
this existence is a road kill restaurant
in the parking lot of a mobius strip mall
but the primal forces of the universe
are not well pleased
when I ask for extra ketchup.

 

* * *

William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“Romance Is a Problem Too Massive to Fix“ © 2015 by William Merricle, used with permission

 

Xanax for Xmas (by William Merricle)

 

Xanax for Xmas

 

I’m dreaming of suggesting
in the strongest possible terms
that a white Christmas
get lost

Is tenderness legal
tender? As a child
I didn’t know everybody
was hurt

Tree branches and blood
vessels glisten with gifts
never opened

I’m scheming with
a brain stuck
on merry and bright

The meds kick in
like sleigh bells
packed with mud

Loneliness is my favorite
window to watch the snow from
the luxury of hell

 

 

* * *

William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“Xanax for Xmas“ © 2015 by William Merricle, used with permission

 

Because I Would Not Break My Chain It Broke Itself For Me (by Merricle)

Because I Would Not Break My Chain
It Broke Itself For Me

You finally arrive, my love,
at the other end of the tweet.
I owe you a teardrop times
the square of a summer night
that will never come again.
Thunder’s in a good mood.

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“Because I Would Not Break My Chain It Broke Itself For Me” 
©2013 by William Merricle, used with permission

fuck you, my empire (by William Merricle)

fuck you, my empire

beauty spends the night under a wolf moon
crying to itself

the tongue depressor incident
was the first hint of executive potential

broken bones make bad props
death murmurs I’ve always been lucky

halfway through the wilderness
a sign says no trespassing

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“fuck you, my empire“ © 2013 by William Merricle, used with permission

motivational dvd (by William Merricle)

motivational dvd

I would sleep much better
if I weren’t shitting bricks
this is mostly not my fault
emptiness has sharp edges

life is a fatal bout of insight
discipline’s all about focus
let your will go willy-nilly
who stole my cheese

the grand order of the cosmos says
spiritual grace comes in many forms
so quit staring at me you little freak 

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His chapbooks include Heimlich The Donut [Pudding House], Grace, You Let the Screen Door Slam [Crisis Chronicles] and, most recently, Chaos Theory [NightBallet].

“motivational dvd” © 2013 by William Merricle, used with permission

Dunce/Inane (by William Merricle)

Dunce/Inane

all the jim-jims in this town
with their sweetly
pungent smiles

a supreme court
makes a good
spot remover

the president says
I don’t want to brag
but the world needs lube 

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His latest chapbook, Heimlich The Donut, is available
at Pudding House Publications.

“Dunce/Inane” © 2011 by William Merricle, used with permission

vanity ensorcelled by ignorance (by William Merricle)

 

vanity ensorcelled by ignorance

we gobble golden apples
while Yggdrasil rots

the butcher remains vulnerable
till the polls declare him innocent

the shrewd mathematician finds
the lowest common denominator

the ecclesiast gleams
in a slurry of grace

the yearning to mark our existence
shines like slug-slime in the morning sun 

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His latest chapbook, Heimlich The Donut, is available
at Pudding House Publications.

“vanity ensorcelled by ignorance” © 2011 by William Merricle, used with permission

Revelation #9 (by William Merricle)

Revelation #9

I chewed off my freedom to be free
From the terror of insecurity. There
It rots in the snare. 

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His latest chapbook, Heimlich The Donut, is available
at Pudding House Publications.

“Revelation #9” © 2011 by William Merricle, used with permission

the king who weighed three pounds (by William Merricle)

the king who weighed three pounds

I gave my heart to my head. He put it in a pot as if betrayed.
Complexity’s freezing drizzle aches like Bukowski teeth.
Precancerous polyps get pissed and mass at the borders.
I look into my lover’s face; its knives are light-years long,
Filled with all the grim energy of a simulated orgasm.
We take turns playing doctor:
I prescribe that she write a poem
About an animal holding up a broken paw;
Her diagnosis says I have a deep sprain of the happy ending.
The frontal lobe’s broken rules mistake the moos for the moon.
Turbidity is to fluidity as morbidity is to validity
As instant gratification is to the Buddha.
Truth is made up as a twit.
Time is a pack of lies.
Stillborn, I pay up and leave. 

* * *
William Merricle lives in Lima, Ohio. His poetry has been published in Pudding, Slipstream, 
ZeroCity, and many other publications. His latest chapbook, Heimlich The Donut, is available
at Pudding House Publications.

“the king who weighed three pounds” © 2011 by William Merricle, used with permission