It’s funny what pops into one’s head when one is folding laundry.
6:30am
big man stands before the mirror
meetings, appointments, etc. today
and yet he stares; time wastes
he is no model,
but ugliness can also fixate;
and each part is a calamity
concave chest
hairy belly
skinny scarecrow arms
sparse pate
hairy back
scrawny chicken legs
but it is the wound that makes him hideous
huge and ragged across him
pink and noisy, a birthday party
where some outer organ has pulled away
in his room, he shakes and dresses
swanky thousand-dollar suit
the shirt; a suture
the tie; a tourniquet
the smile; a glistening stitch
12:19 am, March 21, 2006Debo /
I’M SO EMO
6:31 am, March 21, 2006Nick Presta /
Indeed!
5:03 pm, March 27, 2006Alex .A /
Mike,
I think that your poem was “interesting” but I like my poem better. It goes like this.
I’m the dragon of Grindly Grun
I breathe fire as hot as the sun
when a knight comes to fight I toast him on sight
like a hot crispy cinoman bun
when I see a fair damsil go by I sigh a firey sigh
and she’s baked like a tater
I think of her later with a romantic tear in my eye
I’m the dragon of Grindly Grun
my lunches aren’t very much fun
for I like my damsils medium rare and they always come out well done
2:02 pm, April 1, 2006Suze /
cheer up emo boy