After the last manuscript, which I wrote in a total frenzy over the course of a year, I decided I needed to relax a little bit and write some unserious poems for a while. Write whatever you want, I told myself. No rules and no restrictions! What a dangerous game to play--I took this new freedom and ran with it and consequently the new poems are so, so unpublishable. The one I wrote yesterday is about dolphins who grow breasts and are totally surprised. I spent like four hours on it, scrunching up my little face with concentration. I thought so hard about what a dolphin breast might look like that I should maybe be arrested. I'll probably change the title but right now I'm calling it "Perfect Little Mouthfuls," which wins an award for Title Most Likely to Never Appear in Any Magazine, Ever.
Hmm. Would now be a good time to link that Hey Champ video where the women's boobs are dolphin faces, which I had never encountered until I typed the previously unthinkable query "dolphin breasts" into Google Images? I warn you, though--once you see you can never unsee.