Eric Dolan

1 poem

SASS ME IN THE HOLY GLOOM OF THE MIDDLE AGES

“well, that is just the trouble about this state of things, it ruins so many horses”

I

take the richmond train is wrong
at least we’re moving early

ever early

II

dabbled in releasing prisoners
for nonviolent offences, sweet

celebrity on high sing commute seat contentment
an eight minute effort at the end of an album about

Strawberry peel signage off 88 East
Carson City shits whatever you call
home, made space, tame & angry –

read monopoly

dig right into that mountain if you’re looking for birds
you’ll find them in every crunch of a shoe towards shore
an unspecified kind of sad & beautiful

atta boy

feel it all

tropical depression

III

i should be on Adderall, miserable,
this tennis ball had a better breakfast
than me

yeah

meaning yeah & nothing else

it’s a complicated slope
and i am at the bottom

smiling

IV

surface enough but boring like dining room chairs
or dead grandmas & what you’d give to see them
see you do this on another side of earth

softer, salter fracture &
crack open a coconut
water, hydrate my rocks

you thought cuffing jeans could keep an ocean from you
reconsider & walk back thinking of drying the times
i’ve obsessed over dirty feet & carpets, a perpetual flake
of something i can’t tell

if the horses are cops are
kids with twig revolvers

another toe in the ocean

V

guess who’s walking down the beach

an educate
a warning

we’re nice now which makes it easier
but i’ve turned on too many dimes so
maybe i’m not the one you should be

listening to crashes differentiated by time &
attention, this is where they would have come

the armies i have never seen
peacetime in a technical sense
but Safeway’s always open

VI

get me in touch with Eric Dolan
let’s talk business breathe profit
walk exactly as fast as a cloud

thinking
her thoughts &
the marathon

VII

we are a richmond train and it is never a good idea to lean over the edge

as a train approaches

a case for things


Eric Dolan is a poet from New Jersey, teaching elementary school in San Francisco, writing puke pop nonsense for the disenfranchised masses.