Classifieds 1-12

Journal for sale;
belonged to our grandfather.
He bought it after the war,
sat in front of it
every day with a pen,
and never wrote a word.

Looking for the woman from my dream last night.
Her eyes were the Cuyahoga River,
and her touch was
the first drop of unfrozen rain
to fall on your shoulder
in the beginning of Spring.

Wanted: alcoholic, ill-tempered fisherman
to collaborate on work of art.
Bring painting tools, film equipment, maybe pen and paper;
I’m not sure what we’re going to use
but we must make this;
it’s very important.

Lost dog, brown German Shepherd.
Shits on the carpet and growls at strangers.
If you find her, give her a toy
filled with treats and peanut butter,
because she gets one every day,
and she must be missing them by now.

For sale: pirate action figures.
They belonged to me once, but I’m a grown man
who doesn’t need that crap anymore.
Inquiries contact my secretary
because I’m knee-deep in legal briefs
and don’t have time.

For sale: one guitar,
the kind Clapton plays,
black and white.
May it take you where it never took me:
to the stage, crowd packed with fans,
far from this shitty modern life.

Found: the greatest story I’ve ever read,
hand written, in a dumpster in The Flats.
If you are the author, please keep writing,
and if you won’t come claim it,
at least keep leaving your stories
in the same garbage bin.

Digital camera for sale: waterproof, high def,
and comes with graphic sex videos of my ex-fiancée
(that lying, cheating whore!).
You can pick it up at the harbor.
I’ll be there. Now that she’s gone,
my boat is all I have left.

Cryptanalyst wanted to figure out the codes
I’ve found hidden through Finnegans Wake.
He should know how to jam radio signals because
someone’s using them to make my family try
to stop me from doing this important work,
and they do so with tears in their eyes.

Wanted: the feeling I got as a kid
when snow was this magical, marvelous thing,
and I went sledding down that steep hill for the first time,
wiped out into a snowman
and spent the rest of the evening laughing and drinking cocoa.
Name your price.

Girl’s diary found.
On page one she’s a carefree child; as it goes on
she grows into a teen completely in love with boys:
ecstatic when they like her; crushed when they don’t.
The last page reads:
“I threw up this morning. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

Artsy chick looking for a single man
who dreams often, like every night,
and will share his dreams so she can paint them,
so any time we want to escape
we can look at the paintings
and actually live in “our own little world.”

Boston Literary Magazine, Counterexample Poetics, Leaf Garden Magazine Issues 7 & 9, and Classifieds and Other Poems (erbacce-press 2010, out of print)

Benjamin C. Krause's picture

Benjamin C. Krause is a Generation Y poet, publisher and Esperantist. He loves inventing new forms, enjoys playing with form and hates the Oxford comma.

Last updated August 10, 2011