by Ian Ganassi
Whichever box I open it will be the wrong box.
The longer it goes on the deeper the inflammation.
You don’t need a microscope to see the devil;
Most likely he’ll want to shake you by the hand.
But he’s not the only one.
As Freud said, “The patients are disgusting!”
Off with their heads!
“Life is like a roll of toilet paper.”
I forget how, but it still rings true.
“He’s good at what he does but what he does is not very good.”
Who’s driving getaway?
Wills and testaments floating copiously on the flood …
“What do you do?”
“I listen to the water falling.”
“What do you do?” “As little as possible.”
“Sad” was “heavy” once upon a time.
Thanks for the artichokes.
Ian Ganassi’s work has appeared recently or will appear soon in numerous literary journals, such as, New American Writing, Blazevox, Survision and The American Journal of Poetry. New work is forthcoming in Home Planet News, and First Literary Review East. His first full length collection, Mean Numbers is available in the usual places. His new collection, True for the Moment, will be out in June of this year, and a third collection will appear in June of next year. Selections from an ongoing collaboration with a painter can be found at www.thecorpses.com.
He is a longtime resident of New Haven.