Archive for February, 2014

Crawling Between the Light Blue Electrical Sockets

Whisps of gray poison slink

proudly, quietly around the gray

cubicles, melting marble chords of

self-esteem, directing my crouching 

character until like the innocent

charcoal translucent in the waves

of masterful ocean, I am

slammed against the fearless,

tarnished pavement of the walls

of an empty closet and the boss

shreds me, rolls the wads of me down

a chute to a table full of emotional

indigestion, across from an old, rotted,

scrunchy man, mean man, impolite, mouth

sealed as he is served by hippies, and I 

think it’s okay, no bitterness, he’ll die very

soon, and wilting, I know it is true

for all of us.

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Why I’m Not a Good Spectator at Poetry Readings

I’m here early. Observing
in a disinterested
way, or trying to appear

that way. The students, I want
to be one, and the hippies,
the hippies and a dead nylon

smell. Nothing wrong
with green hair but it bothers
me that it’s a fashion statement
while being anti-fashion, and I’m

anti-, anti-social because
I’m fearful of people I
don’t know, because I’m a
chicken without a mind,

perhaps intriguing on the
inside but flat as a board
in these chatty situations,
and all of this makes me

want to hate myself, especially
when George
won’t have the courtesy
to say hi to me. He is

the weirdo who was happy
to see me unofficially
kicked out of the writing
group. I hate him almost

because I set out
my weakness for
him, he being a similar,
bizarre character, and he

dismissed me,
the scoundrel.

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