
Poems, enchanting stories, alternative humor to be made into operas or epic films. For my sculpture site visit: jlangart.com
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
100 year old bicycling record
100 year old sets first-ever hour record mark for his age group
|
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Snake food for babies
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Three balls are better than two
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Dogface transplant
Belgian doctors have succeeded in their first dogface transplant. The l8 hour surgery proceeded without a hitch. The medical team also removed fleas from the patient, Joe, (its real name is being concealed for ethical reasons)

If you would let me lick your face,
release the steam from my tongue
smell and sniff
sweet bone molecules in the air
Your chops are my chops
I will drool for you
wrap a fly or bee in my mouth for you to kill
blow out a match with my paw
If I can press my nose against
any part of your body
I can smell you in the breeze
Identify you in the midst of a perfume department
Blow pollen in your direction
I will love thy dogface as you love mine
and in Heaven we will sniff the Lord of Love.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The last letter

The last letter
Nobody thought is was coming yet here it is:
The last languid though heartfelt letter to be
Inked on this piece of paper.
The postal service is gone, kaput, au revoir
And the only way to deliver a letter today is to do it
Yourself!
Mailmen went from endangered species to
Extinct (throwing a raw steak at them now is too late)
Yet for some memories they still cross the blocks;
Whistle in the snow and ease a smile
“Junk mail or not here it is.”
Think this: during the WWI trench warfare
Young men knocked and shocked with feet
Rotting in cold mud
Had the written word to hold on to; be it theirs
Or from some beloved
Stamped, dated, watermarked
It was in the hand or a pocket or helmet
Warming the spirit like a coal furnace.
If war is an argument for letters then let
Us keep warring;
Ripping young brave hearts
So to build the right environment
to bleed some ink
If today we ignore any need
To flag an emotion on a support other than
-Electronic-
Then we have flattened our landscape;
Taken the roll out of rivers;
Removed the rumble of avalanches;
Unboomed the sonic boom and
Unpopped the child’s floating bubble.
And stamped out our last tangible history
Personal, unviral, grandiose.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
A Kiss Affair

August 11, 2011
Flatbush and Atlantic Avenue
22nd floor near the Watchtower
It’s 6pm
The call for prayer intermingles with
Tom Carvel’s call for soft ice cream
2 Presidential copters scream over the horizon and
Air molecules containing 76% humidity bounce off
Manhattan walls
In a new fangled apartment a space age compost contraption
Foments trashy fermentation as
DSK rests in Tribeca awaiting his infamous trail
High above the Brooklyn chatter
Above the swapping of credit cards and
Chiropractoring of sore bones
Our friend’s black l8 pound virus-infected
Turkey-like cat
Sneezes projecting a white tender booger 32 inches
That makes a splash in the inflatable Jacuzzi
We watch it disappear under the bubbles
This is a time warp of long lost friends:
We sip on cold cocktails
And catch up on bygone follies over the years
As if not a minute had transpired.
*Kiss or kici in Hungarian means small.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
