Paul does not like poetry.
Paul does not like other people’s poetry.
Paul does not like some people’s poetry.
Paul does not like incoherent rambling poems.
Paul does not like thinly stretched rhyming poems.
Paul does not like overly green nature poems with yarrow.
Paul does not like putting green poems.
Paul does not like new mother changing soiled diapers poems.

Paul does not like apple pie poems
unless the poet provides slices of apple pie to all attendants.

Paul does not like Spanish grandmother
making tortillas by hand poems.

Paul liked those poem categories the first twenty times
he heard them, but has grown weary of them
over the poetry slam seasons.

Paul likes hot meals better than poems about hot meals.
Paul likes sex better than poems about sex.
Paul likes walking in nature better than hearing nature poems.
Paul likes playing baseball better than hearing
Mighty Casey at the Bat or Tinkers to Evers to Chance.

Paul supports his independent book shop
by purchasing copious amounts of small press
and university press poetry books.

Paul reads each poetry book once
then places them in a sidewalk poetry edition little library box.

Paul keeps one out of every one hundred
poetry books he purchases to collect dust on a bookshelf.

Paul has become his own get off my lawn poem
when it comes to poetry.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Saturday Special

Cigarette after sex.
Long night of drinking.

Uninvited love.
Countertop predicability.

Big Hopes.
Four Horsemen Street.

Any City
with a bridge
and view of the ocean.

Broken Down.
Ten miles drunk.

Trying to time
the sunrise instant.

Rainy windowpanes.

Awash in bed linens.
Another chance.

verses reality.
Beer bottle.

White filter soggy.
Nothing funny.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Missed Payment

During your entire lifetime
your heart does not take
a single day off.

Even while you are busy
cleaning your brain
through the act of sleeping.

Be happy it does not
punch a time clock
or collect overtime.

Do not overextend
so oxygen debt
forecloses you during sex.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Leafy Piece Of An Unraked Yard

The man down the block
with the dirty-minded wife
barbecued peaches
to help her fulfill some fantasy
with smoky pits.

He injured his back twice this year
translating her fantasies into reality
for what he believes is both
for mental health
and an expression of love.

None of his efforts involved
landscaping, manicuring the lawn
or cutting down a tree
with a double headed axe.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Remote Ignition

The radio burst into flames.
This was not unusual.

It practiced pyrotechnics every time my neighbors
in the apartment above me

made love and the woman
went into a full throttle orgasm.

I think my radio bursting into flames
had something to do with the subharmonics

of her ever increasing moans
and shouts as she approached climax.

But I could be full of shit.
Mostly I am full of too many sci-fi-fantasy novels.

The radio has a phoenix effect
where in the morning it is my old radio reborn.

I like to think my radio has something to do
with the foundation quivering orgasms upstairs.

That is my ego grasping at straws
wishing my lover ability once in my life achieved such results.

My radio was so satisfied
it refused to allow me to change the dial.

Digital radios do not have dials,
but it is a saying and you get the general idea.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney


Sixty-five million people watched
the final episode of fill-in-the-blank.
We are talking the end of a relationship here people.
So fill in the blank with name one and name two.
It ended on social media gone viral.
On a retweet from Beyonce sent her way by a drunk.

Friends divide into enemy camps.
Wars of words flame through followed transmissions.
A hashtag precedes their names and is mentioned by Colbert.
Lawyers salivate in anticipation of fattening their wallets.
I am sure some of you said, Finally.
I am sure others of you wept, not seeing it coming.

I am sure some of you cannot wait to ask one of them out.
Breakup sex. Revenge sex. Recovery sex. Blotto sex.
But not in front of sixty-five million people.
A few hundred knowing you are that shallow is alright,
but sixty-five million—SIXTY-FIVE MILLION!!!

That is an electron microscope on your life.
That is more weight than your shoulders will bear.
That is all your spare time responding or blocking.
That is the moment it comes all the way home to you
a two-month old unthinking tweet and insensitive j-peg
broke the outer layer of their bonds
and began the unraveling.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney