Two Poems

FINNISH SCHOOLING

I texted you, “Finnish
Schooling,” and I’m sorry
if you took it as a command.
You’ve been out
of school for years
and are quite finished.
I meant the educational
system in Finland.
I saw a thing
on it once—no, not
a documentary, just one
of those things that pops
up when you are passing
statuses and photos
and all the other cut-up bits
of their lives people
put on the internet.
In Finland kids are
so happy. They don’t
have homework. They
read Ishiguro novels
while whittling cedar
computers, oblivious
to the gold medals
they’re getting in every
international category.
Today I thought of them
again while having
a fast food taco
in my girlfriend’s Hyundai.
We were driving back
to Canada from Portland
and didn’t want to
stop for lunch. I bet
Finnish children stop
for lunch even if
it means longer wait
times at the border.
You had an idea
that we could get tech
bros to pay us to give
motivational talks
about poetry and
creativity. Then they
would feel creative
and poetic like they just
bought a sexy coffee
table book, a big one
with glacier photos.
And we would have
money, which is just
what we need. I used to hate
money but have come
to terms with needing it.
You see I need to insert it
into my life in order
for the poems
to come out. If I don’t,
only death dispenses.
You were so excited,
drinking red wine
on the patio, vibrating
with all the ways
we might not die
like a brilliant giant
Finnish child. I was thinking
we could tell
the tech bros about
the Finnish system.
That’s what I meant
to text you. We could
tell them there is
a place where
kids don’t choose
between being poets
and being tech bros.
We could ask them
to design a system
that lets us feel
like that, free and lathered
in many green
breezes from the north. 

DEATH STARRING WINONA RYDER

Her eyes are the three faces of Cerberus.
The third hides behind her shocked bangs.
No, the third is her pursed mouth. If you zoom
in on Winona you will see her skin
is filled with third eyes—we call them pores.
Each one of them is rolling. Each one
of them a head to the dog guarding Death.
Of course an actor covered in third eyes
that also guard Death would be difficult
to work with. What did you expect?
She has the most magical acne. You may feel
her whole body making eye contact with you
because it is, but mostly her whole body
has better things to look at like very
long trains and sexy rivers. If the dogs
guard Death then inside of her is where
all the dead people live. All the living people
live outside of her eating pretzels etc. like
you and me. Wow, she is extremely
haunted. Ever thought Beetlejuice felt
a bit too same-same to your home movies?
Me too. All our Ouija boards call
out Winona during sex over and over.
It would be boring if it wasn't Winona.
Don't call her a bitch though she is covered
in bitches and sometimes they are in heat.
Sometimes you can smell her skin—it smells
like it just ran into the yard and murdered
something so quickly you didn't hear it
die, but when Winona dies what happens?
What will happen to us when Winona dies?