View Archives by:


*We’ve Come For Your Galoshes*

Paul Siegell

Going bowling with a roll of toilet paper, there’s a no smoking
sign on my book of matches. Last year at the Folk Fest, Luke
said, “A funny thing to say to someone on acid:” He pointed to
the ground and then, “Get outta the fire ants!” Up ahead’s a guy
who just inadvertently spit on his dick while seducing the urinal,
waiting for piss. Earlier, someone said, “Blood, Lincoln lost lots,
shaving at a Chevron station.” Chem lab scavenger hunt. Gutter
ball and then a spare. Wondering what’s to pick inside my nose,
smells like someone had asparagus, then peed all over the place.

Paul Siegell

Read Bio

Author Discusses Poems