The Alarm Clock, for Tom

By Paul Vincent Andrews

your dreams become a porn movie
deranged thoughts worse than Satan’s
gyn center, the Doc himself asks you

“staying above water in this”

“had to buy a snorkel”

you’re back in the brown, red, and pink
strange pimply flesh, and the razor burn

God’s sounds the alarm

you luck into Terry Callier

“I’ve seen a sparrow get high”

“and waste his time in the sky”

perhaps today’s the day

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The Tie

By Paul Vincent Andrews

my tie and I
do not dance
through desktop
days, and managerial
afternoons
we do not skip to
lunch, he lies limp
at a quarter to eight (pm)
an unused lighting
rod made of Chinese
silk, with Monet
imprint and hope
and hell waiting
for final stand
the cleaners
its untied state
a Grecian relief

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