Black Lace & Diamonds by Craig Sernotti

Clouds are on fire
but so what.
I'll watch the world end
from my couch.
With the cat pawing
at the aquarium
& the dog asleep
at my feet.
You in the kitchen
in black lace & diamonds.
Do you hear that?
It's the sound of California
falling into the ocean,
me pulling off my pants

- originally appeared in Dogzplot; also published in my book Forked Tongue

Poem for Todd Moore (In Memoriam) by Craig Sernotti

in the poems of todd moore you'll find

life
& death &
dust &
booze &
truth &
a sawed
off double
barrel
aimed at
your balls
& you
will gladly
choke
on the
blood
in his
words
& ask
for more
with a
shit
eating
grin
on your
face

- previously published in Blood at the Chelsea (Erbacce Press)

Shameless Self-Promotion

My first poetry collection has been released from Blue Room Publishing. Forked Tongue can be ordered from Amazon.com.

Shameless Self-Promotion

I have started a new blog to chronicle the development of my first poetry book, Forked Tongue. Check it out.

Shameless Self Promotion

My first poetry collection, Forked Tongue, will be released in March 2010 from Blue Room Publishing. Prepare thyself.

Haiku by Craig Sernotti

what do the dead see
in this yellow water
frozen & insane

- originally appeared in Yellow Bat Review #1, 2001

Ideas by Craig Sernotti

I don't believe in the moon.
Nothing's out there, so stop looking.
Nothing's inside, so stop retching.

I'm waiting for the days birds will use
tombstones for nests, tongues to feed their young.
It'll be great to finally see the useless
being used to support the living.

An aging chiropractor kicks a thin dog for eating
from the garbage. You're the aging chiropractor. I'm the dog.

I'd like to say you're like a car, a wine, an epic,
but the simile falls flat.
Please don't hate me for this.

- Previously published in Skidrow Penthouse

Dreams: Craig Sernotti

DREAM

I took a shit in a toilet
that couldn’t flush.
Didn’t know it was broken
at the time.
I had to shovel it out with a
toothpick and rubber gloves.
Everyone pointed and laughed.
I flung a log at them.
They ran away.
I finished cleaning out the bowl.
John Updike said I did a good job.
I shook his hand,
then removed the gloves.

Nothing Left to Give by Craig Sernotti

You say you want something.

I tear off pieces
of my face, put them
into your waiting hands.

You say you need more.

I run away.
I have nothing
left to give.

- originally appeared in Yellow Bat Review #4

Escape by Craig Sernotti

I walk the dog for the night
on broken glass, empty contact cases,
dead marsupials.
We come to back to
a frost giant
smoking a cheap liquor store cigar
on my couch.
The leash turns to earthworms &
pancake mix.
The stains on my shirt
pirouette by my ribs, take the shape
of John Wayne Bobbitt’s
reconstructed penis.
I jump into the toilet,
salute the laughing showerhead
& swim down & out
to the safety of
an abandoned
wasterwater treatment plant.
As for the dog,
well,
we don’t talk about her anymore.

Walk in Cemeteries by Craig Sernotti

I walk in cemeteries
on edge.
Which graves will open,
how many zombies
will come after me?
I repeat dialogue from
Romero films verbatim
to keep my mind sharp,
look for possible weapons
as I pass each headstone.
Sticks break easily,
marble is too heavy.
When I walk in cemeteries
I always say,
"We need to buy a gun."
She rolls her eyes.
I say, "Stop it,
you're ignorant."
She never gets
the reference.

Burial Ritual by Craig Sernotti

On the eyes place bronze coins.
On the tongue place cockroach wafers.
On the chest place sun-dried placenta.
On the genitals place razor-wire prophylactics.
On the feet place arachnid semen.

- first appeared at Project-M-Zine.com (now defunct)