The Mind Attic press proudly presents a new chapbook available for purchase by the one and only Steven Kramer.
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The avocado plant and mourning Steve… - apologies to Jack Gilbert Will you search for my hair? In the drain? Under the refrigerator? In slashed and dissected vacuum cleaner bags? From my silent clothes in the unopened closet? In the soil of my re-potted avocado plant? If not, what’s on your schedule? Ritual self harm? Scream therapy? Stage dive into my coffined grave? Renewal and refinement of your agoraphobic tendencies? Comfort in strange well muscled embrace? If so, I best go check into cultivating an avocado plant or two. By the way, the word avocado has its root in the Aztec, ahuacatl, testicle. Will you think of the dead me when you re-pot my testicle plant? I do know that after reading this poem, you’ll never look an avocado in the store or a bowl of guacamole or a California roll or Cobb salad or even the word avocado in the eye without thinking: AHUACATL, TESTICLE, BALLS! So ponder not the dead me nor search for my hair think instead of the sweet joys I bequeathed thee! AVACADO, AHUACATL, TESTICLE, BALLS!