
Melanie Browne has appeared in various e-zines and journals including Word Riot, Commonline, Madswirl, Cause & Effect, and Pank-online. She has work forthcoming in Yellow Mama,Word Riot, Houston Literary Review, and Bicycle Review. She is a co-editor at Leaf Garden Press. Her first chapbook, Heaven is a Giant Pawn Shop, is available at Erbacce Press. She lives in Texas.
Melanie Browne's Website & Chapbook: melspoemsandsuch.blogspot.com
www.erbacce-press.com/melanie-browne
To the writers who smoke
To the writers who smoke
how do you hold your hands?
And then it's the simultaneous
Crack of the lighter and the
snap of your thumb
or do you use matches?
when you have neither
maybe you rub
two sticks
together
To the writers who smoke
I find you a bit fascinating
That's a spicy meatball (things that fizz)
I always thought the
Aztecs were kind of sexy
They were really into
Body piercings
and cutting
before those things
were really cool
I read somewhere that
They invented our
Modern day
Alka Seltzer
It happened
During a sacrifice
To
Ometotchtli
Which makes sense
Because he was the
God of drunkenness
After that
He
Was known
As
The
Great
no-tecuh-tzin
POPin POPin
Fizztl Fizztl
Decoy
The owl decoy
Protecting the
garbage outside
The Burger King
Drive-thru
fooled us both
then you were
reminding me
about our
first apartment
how the
Raccoons
would dig through the trash
remembering
how their eyes would glow
in the glare of the headlights
of our car
giving us blank stares
a cold black night
leaving the parking lot,
My eyes
Follow
The
decoy
his head never turns
Shopping for the Apocalypse
Over Thanksgiving
I notice my parents
have a humongous
bottle of shampoo
it is so humongous
in fact it slips from my
hands while
taking a shower
and bashes in the big
toe on my right foot.
they have been shopping
at the warehouse
clubs again
and its a good
thing I suppose
because when the
apocalypse comes
everyone will have clean,
luxurious
and fresh-smelling hair
After Mixing Nyquil with Dramamine
After mixing Nyquil with Dramamine,
she realized
There was no boat
She looked down
At the
sandals dirty with road grime
and thought
“those are my feet”
And she realized she was
Carrying a large, filthy dog
And that she was laughing
Inappropriately
Her legs
Felt like sea legs anyway
lsw - 2009-10-10 11:28:29
a poem for we four "ratio: 31/4" www.lindalou5150.wordpress.com cheers and kudos to you
Anonymous - 2009-11-15 21:15:01
Very good stuff.
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