The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

judging from the chickenfoot
at the frontier motel
someone's getting raped tonight
nomad perfectionist pervert (perfect

I drive right through the unpaid
meal period  taking
in cuneiform landscapes
& all the pleasures of harvesting meat


eight seventeen  the
muezzin shouts his greetings
for the day  alla-hu
akbar  and all is good

rot crawls out of the wood
work  sniffing with its little
antennae  out of stacks
of books  out of my clothes


i telegraph the pain to my
body (each day three days
until time becomes obvious
oh the horrors I've seen

in the great wave off kanagawa;
& the yardstick lies to you so
ask yourself  про́пасть или пропа́сть
it was fun phosphorus collar


let's list things sitting miles away
measure reaction times
follow the strands of a flat round
basket  from the mínguó

i want to forget the swallow
of sounds but the words seep in
tellement הנרתיק the weekwend
so I ask  mein gut mein hair


tell me about the heliotrope
the temple bell made from an O₂ tank
the pleasures of harvesting (again
the sound of sawed wood as the hair comes off

how the pigsty must be situated
at the northwest corner of the house
amidst the white and yellow butterflies
why every second bulb is unscrewed


above the vanity mirror