Do you like the poetry of James Tate? It can be rather absurd. How about the poetry of Charles Simic? If you like the plainspoken absurdities, the conversational surrealism, of their poetry, then you’ll like Skull Bolt.
I don’t know who this guy is. He stumbled onto my blog and left a comment. But I find his own brand of conversational surrealism delighfully disorienting:
Note to whoever kills me:
Please retrieve the wire from my pants pocket. Plug one end deep in my ear. Plug other end into a telephone jack (see schematic). Please give my soul this chance to make it to heaven. [Is the internet heaven?] [World Soul, collective whatever thingy?] Bury my body (no coffin please) in shallow ground, but first plant marijuana seeds right in my torso and thorax. Let it grow. Let it grow. I want to be in somebody’s high conversation. Use my clothes for scare crows.