Meeah Williams

It was like a Shark’s Mouth Full of Fingers | PDF

Inquiry Into a Mirror | PDF


The Revolution Begins When We Laugh at Gunfire

Ahoy there.
We slowly poke the permanent sentry.
There is no consolation under the moon
in this, our era of green expressions.
Apropos of nothing,
my hands are sober on the missing barbell,
the roads back to where we came from
are disabled.
Why destabilize my thoughts which, until now,
were like the toad
buried to its chin in cold muck?
The gun, the calm,
you have guzzled down my sweetness.
On television, the great passions
are on parade.
My suffering walks on moccasins
through olive groves,
but only for a time.
I am forever troubled, agitated, disquieted.
When the end is announced,
I drink a final cup of coffee.
I put on a permanent face
stolen from the Museum of Terror.
I stand at attention when I hear the magnificent sound.
I am not repulsed by reptiles or lentils.
I have not been arrested.

This Poem Has Been Censored by the FBI

Yesterday I got eaten by a bear.
It wasn’t even a particularly ferocious bear.
More like a natty brown rug
full of cat fur & crumbs propped
up on some old broomsticks.
I think he was even missing some crucial teeth.
Maybe an eye.
I didn’t run very fast trying to get away either.
I made a kind of lazy, left-handed lope of my escape.
I don’t know why. I can’t explain my curious lassitude.
I guess I just didn’t care very much.
I guess I couldn’t be bothered.

I was out hunting 1916 biplanes in the forest.
It’s a hobby of mine.
The Sikorsky, the Sopwith, the Halberstadt.
The names roll off the tongue like a mouse pad
& a helmet.
The Junkers, the Nieuport, the Sopwith Pup.
I had with me a box of tissues, a portable drill press
& my untreatable ophthalmolphobia.
Yesterday was a day a lot like this one.
You could have cut it with a knife,
but who would want to
with the mess it would make?
There. The scene is set.
I don’t know much about the digestive system
of a bear. What I do know
is a lot of useless stuff about Keanu Reeves.
Biplanes are like insults. When you start
looking for them, you find them everywhere.
A bear’s digestive tract is short,
only 40% the length of a normal herbivore.
It cannot digest mature plants.
It’s the cellulose that give it trouble, buster.
Keanu Reeves, however, does not appear to suffer
the same problem.
I wish I’d known all this before I was eaten.
I, myself, have often been accused of immaturity.
You can be the judge of that.
There are a lot of things that have crashed
unheard in the forest
A bear could be one of them.
So could Keanu Reeves.
The supersonic jet of the future will be a biplane
according to the Japanese
who should know as well anyone.
If it flew 100 years ago,
it will fly again.
We must somehow keep the faith.

How to Have an Eye Orgasm Every Time

My father murdered us all in our beds
but it was okay because he
left a nightlight on & read us
a bedtime story first
which always ended happily ever after.

My mother was a figment of my imagination.
She existed at the bottom of peanut butter jars
& inside of eggs.
To feel her I had to wet my finger & stick it
inside of electric outlets.

But don’t misunderstand what I’m saying
as a linguistic form of cystic fibrosis.
I am looking for no man or woman’s pity.

Mounted on a central spindle with a handle,
I learned early that you can look your best
with just the right amount of adhesive.

It’s up to you to make yourself a worthy
member of society
either as a bug spray or an air conditioner;
it doesn’t matter what.

When will I begin my second pregnancy?
When should I begin potty training?
When do I begin to lose all hope?
These are badly worded questions.
You have to imagine a world lit by fire
in which most people are cold.
You have to make the most ambitious effort
at the most crucial stage of development
to reverse your image.
In other words, the yellow journey is taken by the rider
who is not the winner.

Despite over a century of interest,
all the zebras galloped out of New Orleans
as early as 1875.
They’d had enough.
Still, there’s a zebra behind every door.





Meeah Williams is a writer and graphic artist from Brooklyn, NY. She’s had work published in many small press literary magazines, both online and in print. Her most recent books include two short story collections Bad Pussy and 101 Sex Positions of the Dead and a book of poetry, The Freak Room. Her online novels 13 Doors of X and Geisha in the City of Death are available at and


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