I Have Always Wanted an Emu

It takes guts to goose Johnny Carsonwith an emu.That's why I've always wantedan emu.

My emu will have more plastic surgerythan Cher, Demi Mooreand the entire waitstaffs of all the Hooters,combined.

I just discovered the whole emu scene12 days ago.Now I want to purchasean elegant Elizabethan mansionand live there with my emu.Their sound is incredibly deeplike European dudes.

The main reason I love emusis that people suck.It is impossiblefor emus to suck.They don't have lips.

I also love emus becauseno one in my family can flybut we all run really fast.We have three toes on each foot.I'm very curious too.I stick my nose into everythingand if I don't understand somethingI stomp on it.

I love Triscuits too.I believe them to bethe best crackers everin the whole historyof crackers.I also love the new and improvedStardust Ballroom.I have received doublein payback blessingsfor every rotten thing that happenedto me and my emuthe last time we wentballroom dancing there—someone removed my pantsand slathered me withorange marmalade.The policewere NOT amused.

Here is the first poemI ever wroteabout emus:

I love emuswhose color is blackMy father took my Legosand won't give them back . . .

Don't tell anyonebut I also lovesexy emu amputees.I heard emus are prudesbut I also heardPosh Spice sleeps alone.It's insane how she resemblesa raptor.I love my emuwith all my heart.

She's my sexy shiny bitchand no one can breakour bond.

If you're coulrophobic(fear of clowns)don't be afraid.You can't love a clownor an emuif you don'tlove yourself first.

In 2003 Gary Sullivan invited me to join a poetry Listserv: a handful of poets were entering outrageous or inappropriate word combinations into the Google search engine and making poems out of the results, then e-mailing them around to each other. Lines from the e-mailed poems could then be reworked in equally outrageous or inappropriate ways and sent around again for further recombining. Gary said the poems were called "flarf." . . .The poems seemed to have been written by a meta-mind: in my poems I could see traces of my friends' poems, and in theirs I could see my own. With constant incorporation of bits of the posted poems into new poems, the content of each subsequent poem reflected the collective sensibility, while still containing the indelible stamp of its lowly origin (from the postscript to Annoying Diabetic Bitch).