Cerebral Contents:

Update for 05.13.08:

Male Model by Phil Doran

Set to Replay by Willie Smith

Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Tree by G. David Schwartz

05.05.08:

Disintegration by Don Hucks

Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord

Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse

Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi

04.29.08:

Lookalikes by Phil Doran

Dinner by Brandi Wells

The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox

Death by Onions by Michael Frissore

04.21.08:

Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser

Identity Theft by George Anderson

The Datists by Adam Engel

A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde

04.14.08:

Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem

California by Caroline Imreibe

Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson

04.07.08:

The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch

Slideshow by Miles J. Bell

Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen

Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin

03.24.08:

The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix

Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor

Far Away by Ashok Niyogi

Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer

03.17.08:

The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy

Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley

Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson

Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney

03.10.08:

Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson

I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson

Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse

Sweet Sweet Unicorns

by Chris Baribeau

All pet owners should keep their
distance from non-pet owners,
because you'll start to smell
like you're potentially good
with handling children.

—Which is perfect for all
the crap ability you have at
training the most basic
tail chasing tricks,
like the fine ass that
parks her bike
next to yours, on the same rack.

And when you're positive that all
notice to your pet
is purely 100% impressiveness,

you can sleep easy,
and know that
you'll turn on it
when you
fuck up with all the tail it gets you.

______________________________________
Chris Baribeau is a 20-year-old professional greaser, who will keep on writing poetry until he has enough to claim it in a book. He was recently published in the SaucyVox with the short fiction "Gynaecologist Vs. Dentist", and has some forthcoming work in Zygote in My Coffee. Currently, he's working on a revenge novel about runaway wives, mermaid breast milk, half-pregnancies, and the would-be draft. He lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

posted 03.13.06.

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