Chickee Chickston

Three Poems:

My Mary Oliver

Truckin’ Poem

My Kangaroo

My Mary Oliver

My Mary Oliver has three stomachs:
greater omentum, peritoneum, and kitty cat tummy.

My Mary Oliver dines in plaid.
Shiny misgivings notwithstanding, her words are even more true in French.

My Mary Oliver loves the smell of barf.
It’s true—barf!

My Mary Oliver doesn’t want to be bartered with.
She’s seen The Price is Right.

My Mary Oliver resists verbage.
She knows where it leads

My Mary Oliver knows who black people are.


Truckin’ Poem

Honk honk. Truckin’ poem.
Honk honk. Honk honk.

Truckin’ along.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Truckin’ poem.

Rollin’ rolllin’. Honk honk.

Truckin’ poem.

Rollin’ rollin’. Honk honk.

Truckin’ poem.

Honnnnnnnnk

Honnnnnnnnnk.

Truckin’ along.

Honk honk. Honk honk.

Trucking poem.

Honk honk.

Truckin’ poem.

Honk honk. Honk honk.

Rollin’ along.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Truckin’ poem.

Rollin’ rolllin’. Rollin’ along.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Honk honk. Honnnnnnnnnk.

Truckin’ poem.

Rollin’ rollin’. Honk honk.

Truckin’ poem.

Honnnnnnnnk

Honnnnnnnnnk.

Truckin’ along. Rollin’ along.

Truckin’ along. Rollin along.

Honk honk. Honk honk.

Honk honk. Honk honk.

Trucking poem.


My Kangaroo

My kangaroo lives in the zoo that is the intense burning love which dwells deep in the heart of all those worlds which are distinguished by the amount of sacrifice that their inhabitants are willing to make for the common good as defined not by the amount of happiness impartially considered (as utilitarians calculate it) but rather as some sort of metaphysical coefficient of the amount of positive energy produced by actions whose intentions are in accordance with what Marshall McLuhan would not have referred to as “a surrogate sun.”

My kangaroo is left-handed.

My kangaroo knows the value of sharing.

My kangaroo is your kangaroo too!