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Scoop: Four Poems



fitting in incentives
by Jessica Pompei


And when I woke up, I found the struggle of lawn mowers, because if it's not semi-automatic shot guns, it's remodeling, and I punched on the TV to get the monitor going. To drone the dinosaur groaning junk food garbage munchers. Plug the street sweep buffer and tweeter. Avoid those tax paid poppers. Can't be hit up with adrenalin crank every morning.

Adam's apple first like god goes o Farrakhan, the pitch of Anthony Robbins. The words made so much sense that I knew I could get out of bed, if I just believed in myself. And epiphany doesn't need to order the tapes.

but the feed from channels kept swell
a penetrating particular lap and whisper
body lingual charades say something between the numbers
what is their secret chest thrust forward
a wave of body surfing sisters smiled at me
transmitting a goose bumping chorus insider's tip:
in watermelon boob jobs
they are hiring
there is a need
there are openings
in watermelon boob jobs
you won't have to get out of bed



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