You’re A Dick

Oh, you were joking?
Okay, alright, I get it now.
For just a moment I thought
you were speaking your mind
and then backpedaling
like a fucking invertebrate.
But you say you were joking
so that’s cool.  Only…

You might want to take the time
to actually learn how to joke around.
There are mechanics to it, you know.
There are the subtle clues of body language
the nuance of facial expression
the backhand of irony
and the subversion of metaphor.
You know, the art of joking.
The things that make joking
joking, instead of an impotent
dry heave of blather.

You might want to learn these things
or people will think
you’re a dick.
And I’m positive
you don’t want people thinking
you’re a dick.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.