Poem Addressing Peter Davis's Birthday In A Roundabout Way

I only know this
because Facebook
tells me. I am
the kind of person
who is terrible
at remembering b-days,
but expect people
to remember mine.
Does that make me
terrible? Will a friend
only remember my
b-day because Facebook
not so subtly hints
at it on their homepage?

In any case, here's
hoping a big vegan cake
and beer find you today.
A hope that, even Muncie,
can't ruin a birthday.

I Build A Time Machine and Steal Mary's Idea About Time Machine Poems

“Mary,” I say,
“time machine
poems don't sound
that cool. You
have Yeti. You
have fucking poems.
Those are way more
interesting than
time machine poems.
Time machines
are sooooo lame.”

“Nate,” she says,
“you're right. I
am just getting off
on another series
when I already have
a couple of good
ones going. I have
to put together my
thesis this summer
anyway. I should
focus on that.”

When I return,
I have a contract
waiting on my desk
and Mary is teaching
in Japan. Everything
worked out just fine.

MY EBOOK, DICK, IS NOW AVAILABLE

Dick!

Trailer for my ebook by Ryan Manning, COMING NEXT WEEK

We went dutch, dutch, dutch

Look for the Idaho Seal

Potato portraits are, literally, pieces of shit I dig.

My cousin's wife has an art degree.
She made a card and Hallmark bought it.
Bought it for big bucks.

If she modeled the people after potatoes,
I think it would've sold better in Idaho.
I'm stereotyping here, but have you ever seen
an Idaho license plate? Potatoes there too.
Potatoes on wheels, going everywhere.

Potatoes are good for noses
because lots of people, lets
be honest here, have potato noses.

Adult Books

You need permission to touch my butt.
You can't just sneak up behind me
and squeeze my butt like a bunch of grapes.
While a flattering gesture,
you just can't do something like that.
I don't know what kind of smut you read,
but in the real world you can't do that--
go up and touch the butts of strangers.
In a dark and smokey club, you might
be able to get away with it. But not here.
Please, stay away from my butt. Or ask permission
if you can't live a good life w/out a grasp.

The trip-hop syphony was axed.

I've got some poems in the new issue of elimae.

It is warmer in Massachusetts than I am used to.