Poems by new ULAer Marissa Ranello

Five Hour Booty Call

I will make you feel my sand dollared tongue.
As it enters your mouth, I will spoon the sloppy syllables
that fall from your lips like baby words,
gravitate them back to you.
That can become a grin, if you let it
I can not communicate my feelings.
I'm an anti-social socialist with agoraphobia
your five hours away
I'm an anti-social socialist with
your five hours
I'm an anti-social socialist
your five
I'm an anti-social
your
five hour booty call with agoraphobia

Shaolin Mexicano Mainfesto

they sell fortune cookies
in the mexican joint on port richmond ave.
all i wanted was a taco
no make taco
there were times when ed koch ate here
i bet he got a taco
instead i get a pint of pork fried rice
with a surprise inside
clothespin in the middle of my rice
Juan has been using a clothespin
to keep his hair tied back every day since '98
and now a small part of him
is in the center of my pork fried rice
Lucky numbers: 21 43 16 28 14 05


Unraveling Blue Afghan

But the sky won't last forever;
radio active isotopes
will shoot down
once again
when spring shoots up
between my tits:
we'll bask in all
my glory,
we'll sing
for my next coming.
Oh, we'll sing!
No, the sky won't
last forever;
unraveling blue afghan.
Never were you comforting.
Found you,
itchy stainless steel
rubbed raw,
mirror of dermatitis,
subsequent crying,
prescription Zoloft,
the bouncing ball
that did me in.

Sardonic Broken Angel

Tired wings unfold
reveal feathers
strategically bound together
by piano wire.
Out of tune,
he mocks
the hands
that play
the notes
of impenetrable silence.