From “The Epigrams of Martial”

6.

A rabbit hides in the wheel arch on a flight to hawaii

and arrives alive a poem stops a tank long enough

for a picture to be taken I myself have become more

fearful of heights the question is then what happens

the eye of jupiter is growing smaller but also colder

7.

The movie is better than the book

which is better than the experience

silver is better than gold (it doesn’t infect piercings)

a fake masterpiece is better than a real one because at least it’s affordable

permadeath in virtual warfare is better than actual death in actual warfare

imitation is better because it’s sincere

whereas innovation seeks to impress

and anyway is never what it says it is

the second time is better than the first, as you well know!

the remake is self-conscious and therefore more morally alert

this sentiment is better than the other times it has been expressed

because in the past it was expressed more forcefully and now it can relax

even thinking that Salinger meant David Copperfield the 1980s magician

who made real cars and buildings disappear

is better than knowing he meant Dickens

but only because others have thought this before you

and written about their mistake with winning modesty

or honesty or both

a cat hunting a bird is better now

because of cartoons

just as the cat that lives next door

is a better cat because it is not your cat anymore

a rhyme is better the more times it has been used

cliché is better than truth

truth is just something that hasn’t become a cliché yet

but inevitably will

(then you can put it in your pocket

and no one can put the truth in their pocket)

and any king or queen or president or prime minister

is better than all previous kings or queens or presidents or prime ministers

any poem is better than all the poems that precede it

that say essentially the same thing

which means new is better than old

but only if it looks or sounds or otherwise seems somehow old

being in a simulation is better than being in reality

watching the simulated stars set to ambient music created by a gifted recording artist

is better than watching real stars set to dismal sounds from real life

derivative beauty is better than any other kind

(here we are surrounded by all this derivative beauty—imagine!)

however the audience will still say “nah”

however many times you say

the cover version is better than the original

but the cover version is always better than the original

I know that the cover version is always better than the original

and the reason I know the cover version is always better than the original

is that I’ve never heard the original

41.

You’re not the capital’s purveyor of inclement art

traversing the pale river with a glass of equally pale sulphur

on a trip in search of black ice cream

or whatever it is the russians are buying

nor an idle dealer who sports a crown of vegetables

in your self-deprecating portrait

(a little fancy commissioned

not to be indiscreet but

in the fantasy

at “some” expense)

not even the owner in your wildest dreams of a kept viper

but more a kind of overlarge boy who somehow drags out a salary

on the halved lunches of interns

hoarse from smoking

not thy powerful talk

you stay in the shop to keep in the shade that’s all

you are not the best urban poet

but this gallery has a heartless master on six figures

who likes to say he’s all mouth and isn’t

and even asks after your finances

the bastard

and why look up from your phone

at your desk at reception

when it seems you’re the only one the satire on the walls this month has seen

(it can’t cut both ways, can it?)

and nobody has ever penetrated the depths of the mercedes that waits

like a black moon

or a scoop of something poisoned

melting on the curb outside

ignored by wardens as if they can’t perceive the gleaming anomaly

so great is it

and you with your “I always had a good nose for it”

you with your aquiline sophistication and games of insolence

their verve dulling let’s be fair in these conditions

and your brochures

your spelling

just enough bait

55.

If you want to know my wishes briefly Mark,

famous host, bright ornament, OK then, pronto—

I ask to be the master of a great rural cultivator

of the soil, a small tribe used to the easiness of dirt.

I do. And to worship the cold painted rocks at dawn

with an unfit “hello.” And later when the presents

are in stockings crowded by the chimney breast,

to remember the lead-haired fisherman I was then,

waiting a year for the prize of a red honey jar,

at a sagging table eating my eggs among ashes—

whoever does not love this does not love this life!

I hope that you live, and the city, amid duties.

57.

What kind of life is called a healthy life...?

I don’t ask that it’s too easy or too hard.

I’d like something in between the two ... 

At the same time I don’t want to know,

even if it is my call ... I know you know

I don’t wish to shave my head again

or work the funerals ... the center of attention ... 

At the same time I don’t want to be bored!

Underneath the veil ... in gloves and pearls ... 

W/r/t life ... that’s my prerogative ... bitches ... 

61.

Love’s syllables scroll.

Tag them, Verona.

May is a happy man.

Consider pressed his tiny region.

Place the stars or less.

Fragrant hues applaud the Nile.

One tree sounds.

Love, the two unique dogs.

He speaks fluent hearts.

A dog can enjoy his humorous letter.

No one has bought cilantro, my arse.

Your lie, my boast.

I will not keep silent in the lawsuit, Bilbo.

63.

In general I hate discussing my poetry

so I always ask questions

there’s a kind of writer/artist though

and you meet them all the time now

who only talks about their “practice”

without anyone caring or asking

(it isn’t connected to success)

and shows no flicker of interest

in anything anyone else does

if the choice is between talking about me

when I don’t want to talk about me

or talking about you

when you only want to talk about you

then let’s talk about me

by the way if you don’t know

this type of artist you probably are it sorry