Poetry

In-between Spots

In-between Spots

I will share this parking spot with you, The malign yellow sleeve of paint Pocked with years of re-coating, Greened beneath your front-right tire; do not damage my vehicle when you back out like a drunk.

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Wordsworth Re-worded

Wordsworth’s poetry has always bothered me. It has to do with the way his words sound in the mouth while reading them, or while imagining them read aloud. He’s not as other Romantic poets; everything is fluffier; even his phonemes are soft and fluffy. Sometimes, I just want to throw dirt into them. Remember “I Wandered…

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Money Pit

Rocket of antebellum Ship of tribal plenty How come I don’t read about you in the papers? Ancient tons of stone The cancer bomb You are no different from the kid during recess Who would never climb on the monkey bars Is it funny That in you I find nature? Necessarily, like White dwarfs and…

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