My Submissions

rhyme with my nocturnal emissions

and maybe this is a guy thing but

when I send out my stuff

when I put my stuff out there

it feels like I’m sowing my seed

I mean, it feels like I’m a burst dandelion

and each submission is attached to a pappus of fine hairs

like little parachutes in a wind-aided dispersal

of my stuff over long distances

and maybe this is conceited but

that’s the conceit that comes to mind

and I think I’d like to explore it a little further if you don’t mind

because dandelions produce their seeds asexually

which is exactly how I produce my submissions

which are sometimes outwardly obscene

and which do contain certain sexual overtones

but are nevertheless asexual by nature

which is to say I don’t have sex when I’m making them

though I do like to have sex after they’re done

because it’s in my nature

and because making them is like compression

it’s like trying to compress all this pressure

into the simple figure of a leaf

a floret, a tendril

and I need to release all that pressure

that’s pushing up through the taproot

when I’m done compressing it into something

that’s beautiful and true

and winged

and when I get one in there,

when I get that acceptance letter, it feels like love

it feels like a love letter, and I read it over and over

and sniff it and lick it and put it in my buttonhole or hat

and pretty soon it starts to fade and to droop

and it goes to seed and it just goes to show

that everything is vanity after the seed

because it’s not about the seed dispersal

it’s about the seed production

it’s about the making of the stuff

not the putting the stuff out there

not the getting the stuff in there

and yet and yet and yet

if you whisper your sweet acceptance in my ear baby

I’ll give you the best first publication rights you ever had