Please Remember Your Works Cited List






Please remember your works cited.
Don’t forget your works cited.

For full credit, include your works cited.
Your works cited is worth a portion of the credit.

This needs a works cited.
Works cited works cited works cited.

Remember the works cited we went over in class?
Where is your works cited?

WORKS CITED?
Works cited should be in alphabetical order.

Please remember to include your works cited.
Where is your works cited?

This is an APA citation.  This appears to
be something cut and pasted from Twitter.

This is not a works cited, it’s from the Old Testament.
It’s not a bibliography, it’s a works cited.

This appears to be a bloodstain, it is not a works cited.
Story was written by Edgar Allan Poe not Joe Strummer

that was a joke I made on the sample sheet
that you just cut and pasted into your works cited.

Do not put works cited in Lucida Blackletter.
Do not put links to porn in works cited.

Do not issue personal threats in works cited.
I don’t think you read the syllabus.  Yes,

the syllabus has been posted online
since the beginning of the semester.

The syllabus has the answers
to your questions about late penalties.

Per my previous message,
the policy is outlined in the syllabus.
The syllabus is not summarized

on SparkNotes. There is no thematic
analysis of the syllabus available

via Shmoop.  Please see the syllabus
for relevant information regarding

plagiarism. You have copied that sentence
from the syllabus.  Please see your instructor.

Please note that your instructor
is beginning to ponder the mystery

of sentience and the possibility
that we are all a catastrophic failure

of bioengineering intended to produce
an entertaining resort world

for spacefaring beings to whom we are
but various intellectual properties

parading up the Sunset Strip
pausing occasionally to vomit

in a trash can.  Rock & roll all night
& wear your Ben 10 costume all

day.  Yes
that will be on the final.

Please commit
to memory.

Downside Up.



Listen
when we murmur.  Nip
us on


our noses.  Met him,
spiked
him, let him borrow


my hose.  Munching
on iron,
a lunch buttered


before we run
for better rum.  
A goat eating


a can can
attest to the old
adage, let’s get


wet & electric,
let’s select
an eclectic playlist


to really get this
party started
headspin


style while
the good old
boys are treated


for smallpox
by barbers
who vote in blocs


like lego putsches
in Playmobil
country.


Test the waters
for flesh-eating
bacteria by

bibliomancy with
old phonebooks.
Telephoning the dead


is just a matter
of finding a way
to charge the obsolete


hardware.

Make It Big.



Schist.  Mica.
The other
guy has a simpler
life.  A banana
stand on
the boardwalk.
Rumor has
it & won’t give
it back.
Out of the sun
fly sinister
butterflies,
having no fun.
Swarming you,
symbols
of the soul’s
transformation
after death
or so says
the guy who played
Buffalo Bill
who went to the same
college I did.
Or are they
signs?  Signifier
& Sigmund
the sea monster
who was more like
udon noodles
which were not a thing
in the 1970s
except maybe
in Japan
where they were just
food for thoughtless
teens hellbent
on fleeing their
uncles who kept stealing
their noses in
an act of malicious
synecdoche that
has resulted in
more than one
domestic incident.
There’s no need
to shout when
the band is
bringing it down -
a little bit
softer now, a little
bit country, a little
bit fascist neofolk.
Let it be
rock to blunt
the edgelords.
Guitar hooks,
right hooks,
Townshend’s cancerous
windmills.  The kids
are in danger; actually
I hope to get quite old
to spite
appearances.

Above the Sea, Below the Stars.



Not a game but
a puzzle stuck due to
pieces missing from
collective wisdom.  Go


where the kids
went: an exorcism
in ether augmented
by dank apps.


Tell me of your
homeworld usually
I don’t react
to the weather


while it drags knuckles
along the esplanade.
Disembodied yellow eyes
flitter among the cairns


like mating damselflies.
A fair coterie
at the fair all tricked out
in chitin livery.  


Lose your mind
& dance forever
across the shoals;
go where the poppies


grow from the skulls
of CFOs &
unemployed nurse
practitioners


alike.  Hopping into
this body is no worse
than any other.  Each stinks
in its own house.


Love gets used
to the smell
& it’s like it’s
not even there:


when you share
your socks,
the whole world
recoils with


reckless abandon.
Something
we can all agree
on:


you are less
interesting than the man
who has a talking
dog & a parakeet


who lights
his own cigars
while quoting reruns
of This Is Us.

Exploding To Death!! The Beautiful Human Wannabe!!


Cry no tears, great
robot, but understand burning
friendship inside
the science institute.  

Nobody gets hurt
when you play your ocarina
for the gradient sunset.
Rise up

as a beast at the behest
of a reptilian general
when the children dance
in rings beside the silos

filled with countless
canisters oozing toxic
chemicals.  The budget
isn’t enough

for a full mutant
suit, so you’ll only ever
see me from the
waist up.  These claws

are not my
fault.  The government
has covered up
so much more than

my nether regions
of brittle ash.  When the thunder
breaks o’er my prone dome,
blame a man

with his face on his chest
for I learned to love
the mewling babes
even still my rows of thorns

& gills made them weep
just as my killswitch
fails at the final
hour of our

trials; scramble
brain condor,
breast boomerang,
throw your fists
at UFOs.

from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fifth

Calliope sings: Persephone's fate It's too late to question the logic of curses, to second guess why some birds deserve h...