after “Fishing on the Susquehanna in July” by Billy Collins
wake up, billy; we’re going fishing
years later i will sit
in the kitchen of
a friend’s house,
thinking of my last
expedition—the cold
air of April amidst
the warmth of your
skin as I push you
from the boat
you looked so lovely
struggling in the water
i wondered for a moment
if that image could be
carved into your head-
stone—captured perfectly
forever
im going to drown billy collins
the art of drowning:
i’m told you know it well
if a life flashes before your eyes
i’m certain it’s one filled with
scorching heat of nazi hellfire ,
jerking off to child pornography,
wind-tickled palm trees dancing
on the grounds of your rich estate
while you whip a slave, thoughts of
how do I do my taxes while vacationing
on the French Riviera & can I write off
child pornography as a job expense
“dust in the wind” playing yes billy,
child pornography is a job expense
billy collins “dust in the wind” is a
song that is meaningful to you;
all we are is miniscule, life is so vast.
look into my crazy eyes while I hold
your body under the water and each
of your too-many years of life on this
earth work their own magic pulling you
down towards the center of the world,
at the bottom of this pool is a reason
for me to live; i will take you there
after “Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins
O, to walk inside the
walls of your old white
man stomach, really
get my heels in there
I say drop some rats
into his corpse,
never let them out
I say shrink me down
and drop me in there,
I’ll eat my way through
Yes, certainly, my teeth
can chew through your
frail old flesh
Can’t believe you haven’t died yet
Can’t believe God hasn’t taken you
Fuck poetry, here’s a new public service:
feed Billy Collins to starving dogs,
set fire to his poetry, let the
homeless be warmed by justice and
newborns roll in the redemptive ashes
If a phoenix rises,
gun it down.
after “by a swimming pool outside of syracusa” by billy collins
nobody in italy would talk to you
you fucking asshat
poolside perfect for drowning
i order you ten drinks then
ease your body down
into the water
“that’s amore”
after “another reason why i don’t keep a gun in the house” by billy collins
i would send dogs
after you, but you
just seem old &
sad & crispy.
chances are
that you’d
crumble in
the interim.
the light
gleaming off
of your glasses: a
portrait of the
highest attainable
level of
Gap Outlet
rewards card.
you don’t deserve
music, i’m
taking all of your
cds away; i will
leave just one cd
it’s called “the
sound of my fist
hitting your
dumb face” it was
recorded by me
ten minutes in
the future. it
sounds pretty
good.
glad you don’t keep
a gun in the house
because i do.
DAY 1
u smug bastard u will be poet laureate of hell when i am done w u