Poem in Your Pocket Day 2017

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day! This year the poem in my pocket is "On Wanting to Tell [ ] about a Girl Eating Fish Eyes" by Mary Szybist.



On Nancy, Peter Bresnan says he was in love with Joe. Peter wrote sonnets, but Joe doesn’t know. T. Swift runs through boyfriends like it’s going out of style. Adele is always parting ways with someone in her songs. Aimee Nezhukumatathil is asked Are All the Break-Ups in Your Poems Real? Mine are real, and they’re spectacular. Kay Ryan says, “I could never ever write fiction. I have no idea what people are thinking.” Madeline Kahn as Mrs. White says, “Husbands should be like Kleenex: soft, strong, and disposable.” Meryl Streep says that Carrie Fisher said, “Take your broken heart, make it into art.” “It’s strange to imagine that it’s about us,” Joe says when he reads the poem years later. “This isn’t what I experienced…even a little. This does not describe what happened, as far as I’m concerned.” I say in the end what was worth more, the man or the muse?


Never Have I Ever

Never have I ever worked in an office with so much peanut butter.


Brian's Favorite Things

The teeth-brushing scene from Bring it On. Bonus: the dissolve from one pillow to the other!



I am excited about the new Nancy podcast from WNYC!

For me there is a tangential link to National Poetry Month. The second episode discusses the host Tobin Low's reactions to porn actor Brandon Lee. It reminded me of my bookstore browsing last weekend, when flipping through Chen Chen's When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities, I stopped to read "Jerking Off to Koh Masaki."



A small screeching came from the corner of the laundry room, behind the row of dryers. A mouse struggled in a trap of glue, dying next to dead kin.

A week earlier: Ash Wednesday. I asked forgiveness as I crushed a spider in the bath.

The week after that: book club argued was the narrator a sociopath.

Then that mouse, pleading, stuck. Not giving up.

Foolish, pledging to abstain from killing things for forty days.


O, She Says

O, She Says, by Hailey Leithauser.