Sabataged by a Black Magic Brownie

Well, here's the levity folks! May I burst first into tears, next into flames at Tony's. Attention Frank Sauce. Speed-dial 9-1-1!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Sabotaged by a Black Magic Brownie
I was so excited about the John Hogl reading
Thinking of John Hogl I shaved and trimmed my goatee.
I thought of all the pretty poet girls I have crushes on,
surely they’d be there for John Hogl--I’ve seen a photo,
he is a very good looking man, so I combed my goatee
thinking of the poet girls and John Hogl, how I would flirt
with them all, how I would not drink too much to
embarrass myself, but just drink enough to flirt,
hoping one of them--the girls or John Hogl would make
the first move because I’m incapable of making moves
first, middle or last--but even if I swing and miss all night
it wouldn’t be bad at all to be stuck in the batter’s box
with John Hogl, and maybe he would like my poem.
So I labored like Heracles all week on that rough beast
dirty soap-in-the-mouth mike g poem, I’d call it--
In praise of the great poet John Hogl. I lost sleep.
I tried to imitate John Hogl’s eloquence but false
it rang in my voice, false in rang in type--I tried to
invoke the eternal spirit of Hogl by copying in pen
a few of his poems. I imagined his voice. It came:
I was certain it was the spirit of John Hogl coming to my aid
fuck, shit, cunt, fuck her in the ass she likes it that way
the spirit of Hogl sang, or so I dreamed.
I was too nervous to eat. Poet chicks! John Hogl!
What great times we’d have and maybe later
we’d stagger to the Matador everyone brilliant
and beautiful. I called Robyn. She’d be home from school.
5 o’clock. So exciting I said to her--John Hogl’s
coming--oh, she said, is that the dude you been fixated on
all week--look Robyn, are you comin’ or not--I gotta
start planning my big evening--John freakin’ Hogl!
Ugh! she sighed. I’d like to go. You got some weed?
Hash brownies baby--dude from work gave ’em to me
I’ll be over in ten minutes.
I planned on just takin’ a bite or two,
give the rest to her. I gotta be on my game
for John Hogl, and the ladies, I thought.
But at her place, so puffed up with self-importance,
and pride in my poem’s irreverent power,
and prospects of a holy encounter with John Hogl
I inhaled that enormous brownie, downed it with pbr,
stood up, told Robyn: I’d be back in 50 minutes
to pick you up so you can bask in our glory:
mine, John Hogl‘s. So be ready Robyn! You ain’t
gonna wanna miss either of us I slurred as I left
The dark magic in the brownie already had me--
I panicked, barely made it home, threw up,
self-induced--I’ve gotta see John Hogl I moaned
to the toilet bowl--I’m mike g I gotta see the Hogl
the Hogl gotta see mike g--it’s important--staring
into the toilet I saw the face of the poet chick I like most
she frowned at me--I wiped my mouth with toilet paper
her face still there--she said: looks like you fucked up mike g
no me no Hogl no Tony’s--nigh nigh! beddy bye!
pushed myself off the floor with both hands on porcelain
stared at the clock in horror: 8 o’ clock, I’m fucked up
everybody’s probably there early, even the Hogl!
I staggered, clownishly to my bed to my bag grabbed
my poem, I gotta read for the Hogl! I staggered to the
bathroom mirror, vomit on my turtleneck collar. I tried to
read aloud, slurred, stammered. oh no--I’ve ruined my life
I said, I’m sick, I’m, I’m I’m a--sorry John Hogl--
somehow I dialed Robyn’s #, left a message, too high
for the hogl, too high ohhhh! next day I learned she was
already passed out--I collapsed on my bed, my nice
black shoes, all shined and pretty for the hogl I couldn’t
take off--the clock said 8:30--I closed my eyes and
the terror came. green-purple vines quickly shifted
to grey and black wild geometries through which
tiny purple machine elves marched like soldiers in
terrifying methodical rows--they were coming for my brain
my last thought was I love you John Hogl . . .