This Just In!

a new masterpiece, forthcoming in Joe Massey's Fondue Thong: Poems & Stories:


plan: slather / my knob in spicy / sugary beef sauce / and then call the cops / because it's going to catch fire / and ignite my entire Tori Amos / world in flames of flavor / I savor your terrorist titties / and buckle and break like the foundations / of a bombed building

Massey Writes Great Smallish Haiku

Joe M: Did you see my post this morning?
TonyR: no
TonyR: i will look now
TonyR: very nice
TonyR: you look good in that outfit
TonyR: last night Jess Mynes called John Weiners "the gay tony"
Joe M: What was the connection?
TonyR: my magnificent poesy
Joe M: I don't see the similarities.
TonyR: that is fine
TonyR: you may dis me if you like
Joe M: It's not a diss!
TonyR: by the way, i bought this book the other day:
TonyR: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1906002010/ref=pd_rate_rs/104-8867643-0433557
Joe M: If I had to pick poets that you remind me of, I wouldn't pick Wieners.
TonyR: it is better than any book of poesy
Joe M: That looks like a fun read. One for the shitter.
TonyR: oh yeah. it's huge and comprehensive
TonyR: though it's not very well-edited
TonyR: it contains typos and factual inaccuracies
Joe M: Wieners was very invested in the idea of being a poet as some exalted almost otherworldly duty. You don't have that attitude.
TonyR: i am invested in being a poet as a quotidian task
Joe M: But he was very frank in his personal poems, the sexual frustration and self-deprecation -- I can see that connection.
TonyR: it is a berriganish attitude without the IMPORTANCE
TonyR: i'm gonna start a metal band
Joe M: Call it HELL HAMMS
TonyR: YES
TonyR: our mascot will be a big cuddly bear with a pentagram shaved into his chest fur
Joe M: I love it. I want to be the tambourine girl.
TonyR: You may!
TonyR: hey do you mind if i publish this conversation to one of my clogs?
Joe M: I don't providing you say something very flattering about my diminutive verses.
Joe M: *mind
TonyR: okay. i will.

Don't listen to this man.

Some advice I just dispensed to a young MFAer.

Advice to a young SOQ poet.

Funny---I write nothing like Dean Young. Nothing! But that's okay. Maybe you should just read my wretched little book and find out.

Um...who to read. Well, throw away your Mary Oliver and your Philip Levine and your Sharon Olds and your James Tate and your favorite Polish poet and your Robert Lowell and your Robert Hass. First of all.

Um....Ted Berrigan, Maureen Owen, Joseph Ceravolo, Clark Coolidge, Susan Howe, heck, Sandra Simonds, Andrew Mister, Joseph Massey, David Shapiro, Barbara Guest, Lyn Hejinian.

Um, the latest issue of the Canary is very good. Oh, don't forget your Big Name New York School poets. And Berryman is, of course, essential, even though the post-avant crowd considers him one of the enemy, which is just plain hogwash.

Emily Fucking Dickinson. And read all her letters too. Now THAT'S experimental poetry.

Do a google search on "Flarf" and ask yourself why it exists.

Read Ezra Pound with great difficulty and little reward.

Do a close reading of Shakespeare's Sonnet 20, or any of Donne's Holy Sonnets.

Compare Wyatt's original version of "They flee from me.." with Richard Tottel's edited version. Why did Tottel make the changes he did? Do they improve or worsen the poem?

Then have a beer.

Then contemplate the uselessness of our existence on this cold, dark orb.

Then roast some asparagus with olive oil, and fresh pepper.

When you've done all of these things (or one of them) let me know!

for joe

Conversations like this should never take place.

TonyR: i jizzeth like a newborn gazelle
Joe M: hahahah
Joe M: gangly, wet and retarded?
TonyR: gracefully, softly, bounding through lush veldt
Joe M: hahaha
Joe M: yeah right
Joe M: you mean like an awkward sloppy mess of viscera and horror

R&R Dating Tips

Coming soon!

Because You Asked For It!

I received this email after calling out an unnamed poet who was slandering some other poets for his unusual logic.

Tony,

Hey, here's a fun fact for your blog: I had to be the
one to sell back the engagement ring, because X
was crying too hard to do it. Ever sold back an
engagement ring, pal? It's a real fucking blast,
really helps you get some perspective on how much you
FUCKED UP your life. Fortunately we netted just
enough money to make rent for the month. Didn't save
the relationship, though. After four years--four
years--I had to end it. I had to leave her crying. Why? Because she beat me, Tony. Four years of any kind of abuse you want to name. But you know, I'm a big-shot lawyer and all, so why don't you put all that on your fucking blog, you know so much about people.

Just leave me the fuck alone, Tony.

Any armchair psychologists want to take a crack at this?