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THE BOY WITH NAILS IN HIS EYES
The Boy With Nails in His Eyes
put up his aluminum tree.
It looked pretty strange
because he couldn't really see. 
THE MELANCHOLY DEATH OF OYSTER BOY
He proposed in the dunes, 
They were wed by the sea, 
their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri. 
For their supper they had one spectacular dish--
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish. 
That wish did come true--she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human?
Well,
maybe. 
Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this cancer, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.
She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine." 
"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
...have you considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?" 
Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or, sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam."
Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell? 
When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away. 
One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain. 
His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pounding the dashboard--
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain. 
"Really, sweetheart," she said,
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."
He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled. 
The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't be quite sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!" 
He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips--a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you think of Heaven?
Have you wanted to die?" 
Sam blinked his eyes twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie. 
As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam dripped down his throat. 
They buried him quickly in the sand by the sea
--sighed a prayer, wept a tear--
and were back home by three,
A cross of gray driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save. 
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave. 
Back home safe in bed,
he kissed her and said,
"Let's give it a whirl." 
"But this time," she whispered, "we'll wish for a girl." 
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Mainly stuff from his book, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy & Other Stories, here. Two links below--one will take you to a cool Tim Burton site with more info, the other will take you to the world of Stain Boy. (One side will make you taller, while the other side will make you smaller.) More Tim Burton stuff Welcome to the world of Stain Boy |
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JIMMY, THE HIDEOUS PENGUIN BOY
"My name is Jimmy,
but my friends just call me
'the hideous penguin boy.'" 
STAIN BOY
Of all the super heroes,
the strangest one by far,
doesn't have a special power,
or drive a fancy car.
Next to Superman and Batman,
I guess he must seem tame.
But to me he is quite special,
and Stain Boy is his name.
He can't fly around tall buildings,
or outrun a speeding train,
the only talent he seems to have
is to leave a nasty stain.
Sometimes I know it bothers him,
that he can't run or swim or fly,
and because of his one ability,
his dry cleaning bill's sky-high. 
ROY, THE TOXIC BOY
To those of us who knew him
--his friends--
we called him Roy.
To others he was known
as that horrible Toxic Boy.
He loved ammonia and asbestos,
and lots of cigarette smoke.
What he breathed in for air
would make most people choke!
His very favorite toy
was a can of aerosol spray;
he's sit quietly and shake it,
and spray it all the day. 
He'd stand inside of the garage
in the early-morning frost,
waiting for the car to start
and fill him with exhaust. 
The one and only time
I ever saw Toxic Boy cry
was when some sodium chloride
got into his eye. 
One day for fresh air
they put him in the garden.
His face went deathly pale
and his body began to harden. 
The final gasp of his short life
was sickly with despair.
Whoever thought that you could die
from breathing outdoor air? 
As Roy's soul left his body,
we all said a silent prayer.
It drifted up to heaven
and left a hole in the ozone layer. 
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