A Farewell to April

The Wasteland
with a nod to T. S. Eliot

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land.
Lilacs reek like Grandma's pissy knickers.

No! May is the cruelest month.
It's my birthday month.
Enough said.

No! No! June is the cruelest month:
The month of virgin marriages,
Broken cherries, and stage-managed commencements.

No! No! No! July is the cruelest month.
I'm writing this in July.
I rest my case.

No! No! No! No! August is the cruelest month.
A time of hot dogs, French fries, salt and vinegar.
My piles act up in August.

No! No! No! No! No! September is the cruelest month.
The Salmon are spawning and give up the ghost.
I'm beset by allergies and the odors of stale sex.

No! No! No! No! No! No! October is the cruelest month.
Leaves blaze briefly, bleed and fall.
It's so depressing I give up masturbation.

No! No! No! No! No! No! No! November is the cruelest month.
The pilgrims are all dead.
They were a bunch of assholes anyway.

No! No! No! No! Twice! December is the cruelest month.
We're tyrannized by children, the greedy little pigs.
Let's celebrate the slaughter of the children, bless their souls.

No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! January is the cruelest month.
Happy New Year! We can't go on! We must go on!
I'll stay in bed.

No! No! No! No! No! And five more Nos! February is the cruelest month:
Days of shrunken tits, balls like shriveled grapes:
Days and nights of cramps and constipation.

No! Eleven times No! March is the cruelest month.
The resurrection and renewal of drive by shootings
Adolescent gang bangs.

The cruelest month? The cruelest month?
Go peck the bones of unread anthropologists.
Life is awesome and cruel.

Aw fuck it!
Carpe diem!

by David Lewitzky

in volume 1 issue 2

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