Jenny and I were walking to the bus stop yesterday afternoon and Jenny said "They want you to write the poems from the book on the Wall at the museum."
"Duh. What,?" I muttered, sort of getting what she was about to say was expected of me.
Write on the walls of a museum? What a perfectly childish and scandalous thing to do. It breaks every rule of civility and decorum I've ever been taught.
I'm in.
Give me a marker.
U
U is for urination,
With boys and girls
There is a variation.
Boys pee, it seems,
Comes out in streams,
But often misses its
Destination,
While girls, we all know,
When they have to go,
Deliver theirs' with
Grace and precision.
"Duh. What,?" I muttered, sort of getting what she was about to say was expected of me.
Write on the walls of a museum? What a perfectly childish and scandalous thing to do. It breaks every rule of civility and decorum I've ever been taught.
I'm in.
Give me a marker.
U
U is for urination,
With boys and girls
There is a variation.
Boys pee, it seems,
Comes out in streams,
But often misses its
Destination,
While girls, we all know,
When they have to go,
Deliver theirs' with
Grace and precision.
I got a museum in a major American city to invite me to write a poem about urination on their walls. Move over, Piss Serrano.
We have a few days left in our crowdfunding effort for the book. You can order Atrocious Poems A To Z here, and see the debut of my scribblings on the wall of the Rockford Art Museum June 9th, assuming they don't catch win of the whole nefarious plot.
This post first appeared on Zombie Logic Review: Poetry For Outsiders And Outl, please read the originial post: here
