Greg Purcell co-founded The Danny's Reading Series in Chicago in 2001. He updates the online journal
No Slander and works the nightshift at St. Mark's Bookshop in New York's East Village. HIs poems have appeared in Jacket, The Exquisite Corpse, Fence, New American Writing, and McSweeney's. The Fundamentals and Other Poems from which the following poem was selected is seeking a publisher.Poem
For Law Office, R.I.P.
Fucking's neither meat nor money,
Nor is it a crime,
But fucking's often overmuch
A fucking waste of time.
Girl can write her fucking poems
And paint her works of art,
Boy can start his fucking wars
And blow the world apart,
And each thing differentiates
Wild from fucking tame—
Wars a diplomat can sue
Or towns get fucked in flame,
And art, if it is fucking good
Makes fucking obsolete,
'Cos it can be as tough as nails
Or feminine-effete.
But fucking with a foe or friend
All fucks the fucking same.
Sometimes Boy can fuck on top
And ride like aeroplanes—
But then our Girl could take his place
And bob her fucking brain,
And every time the one on top
Pumps like a fucking train,
And every time the one below
Just drains and fucking drains.
If you ask me (and thanks a lot)
All fucking's all the same—
So make your wars or make your art
Or make your fucking peace,
But when it comes to fucking girls,
Or boys, move cautiously.
-----
I Have About a Billion Friends
I have about a billion friends
and each one sees the whole surround
which is why I never lie
one is full of light that bends
one weighs several billion pounds
one soundlessly flies
towards whom it soundlessly offends
and they'd seek me out just like a hound
with penetrating eye
and across the whole would I extend
and weeping, see the world around
and skeletons pass by
I have about a billion friends
like oceans breathing in the sound
of a single sutured sky
*image courtesy of Gabert Farrar
Girl can write her fucking poems
And paint her works of art,
Boy can start his fucking wars
And blow the world apart,
And each thing differentiates
Wild from fucking tame—
Wars a diplomat can sue
Or towns get fucked in flame,
And art, if it is fucking good
Makes fucking obsolete,
'Cos it can be as tough as nails
Or feminine-effete.
But fucking with a foe or friend
All fucks the fucking same.
Sometimes Boy can fuck on top
And ride like aeroplanes—
But then our Girl could take his place
And bob her fucking brain,
And every time the one on top
Pumps like a fucking train,
And every time the one below
Just drains and fucking drains.
If you ask me (and thanks a lot)
All fucking's all the same—
So make your wars or make your art
Or make your fucking peace,
But when it comes to fucking girls,
Or boys, move cautiously.
-----
I Have About a Billion Friends
I have about a billion friends
and each one sees the whole surround
which is why I never lie
one is full of light that bends
one weighs several billion pounds
one soundlessly flies
towards whom it soundlessly offends
and they'd seek me out just like a hound
with penetrating eye
and across the whole would I extend
and weeping, see the world around
and skeletons pass by
I have about a billion friends
like oceans breathing in the sound
of a single sutured sky
*image courtesy of Gabert Farrar
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