http://www.futurecycle.org/RustinLarsonBio.aspxhttp://www.futurecycle.org/RustinLarson1.aspxPoem <h1>My Father's Hernia</h1>I had a fruit salad for company<br /> a bag of balloons, a sad monkey who wouldn't wake up<br /> <br /> I am standing outside Utopia<br /> in my tight army-green swim trunks<br /> <br /> strangling a beach towel<br /> the shadows of leaves brushing the clapboards<br /> <br /> I have many deposits<br /> of fat on my back and chest though I will tell you it’s pure muscle<br /> <br /> I sacrificed my groin in some accident in the navy<br /> or in Chicago lifting a washer up 12 flights of stairs<br /> <br /> my legs are familiar white hairless<br /> you'll recognize them as your own when you're 44<br /> <br /> I have no neck, I have an appetite<br /> I'm still celebrating the end of the war<br /> <br /> the grass is soft here<br /> we'll go to the sailor's emporium for fried clams<br /> <br /> and ride the empress after sunset<br /> or maybe the queen or the chief<br /> <br /> ride on the bumper cars roller coaster hammer of death<br /> and listen to the Twins play on the radio<br /> <br /> in the dark and listen to the lake water still itself<br /> until the light morning breezes something illegible<br /> <br /> a matter of myself, the dock spelling itself<br /> plank by plank out over the water<br /> Mon, 13 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT