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Monthly Archives: June 2013

#52

Writer’s Restaurant                            (high school)

“May I help you, sir?”
“Yes. I’d like a slice of irony please.”
“Dramatic, situational, or verbal?”
“Surprise me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the chef told me he’s all out of irony. Would you care for something else?”
“What would you recommend?”
“Alliteration, allusion, apostrophe, synecdoche, assonance, consonance, or sarcasm. That’s the house favorite.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, if you want something exotic, we have litotes. We have an Hawaiian cook who makes great onomatopoeia. If you want something bitter we have cacophony or something really sweet the choice is euphony. We also have a million hyperboles but one’s usually enough for anyone. And then we have the good old American favorites: simile, imagery, and symbolism.”
“I think I’ll have a metaphor.”

 
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Posted by on June 7, 2013 in high school

 

#51

Being your alibi

You dug a hole
       trying desperately
       to save your vegetables.
As a friend
       I let you place the leftover mound
       in my garden.
The dirt had to go some place.

But now my tomatoes
       are dead.

 
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Posted by on June 6, 2013 in old discoveries

 

#50

Sevenling (a clash of noises)

A clash of noises, loud vs. louder
The third, the quiet one, feels the pain inside like the puncturing of a balloon’s skin
An amber bottle of shame opened nightly, never quite gone enough in the morning

Sunset splashes wide and deep on the horizon
High arching bridge as narrow as two lovers walking hand in hand
Boats float lazily below like calm smiles upon the shockingly cold water

Some endings are more peaceful than others

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2013 in sevenling, springboards

 

#49

Atmospheric changes

If a meteor sizzles
through the atmosphere
and crashes into the ocean
the water level rises across the world
and steam billows toward the sky.

All I know is:
      the ocean of my body overflows
      and my glasses
      are constantly fogged.

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

#48

this body                                (new)

I am in the middle of being lost
            disconnected
      connected
I am scattered outside
    with ears, a nose
  and two I’s                      (a blue i and
                                           an optimistic i)
  with hands and
    fingers
  and feet and
    inches
                                       (lots and lots of inches)
  with sensitive heels and
    smooth palms
  with sharp edges and
    hidden corners
  with color inside
    of light
  with hair
                                       (lots and lots of hair)
    piling on top
      of this body
  with a neck bone
                                       (like a peacock)
    connected to the
          shoulder bone
      the shoulder bone
    connected to the
          back bone
      the back bone
    connected
      to the
disconnected      me

 
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Posted by on June 3, 2013 in new poetry

 

#47

The Death of Phantom

The dog and I had an understanding.
Long after the others had gone–
        the paper boy so scared he left
        our newspapers at the end of the street,
        the kids barked into running to school,
        the mailman with his mace–
He would walk toward me,
Turn his back and stand,
Still,
Protecting his territory and ignoring me.
I would slowly reach down
And pet him, quietly,
Running my fingers through his coarse black hair.
Occasionally I even dared to scratch his body,
But if anyone approached us
He would walk away
Ashamed at his weakness.
But for me it was a privilege
Earned from years of trying;
        freezing at his barks until he stalked away,
        crooning his name when he was behind a fence,
        not giving up on connection.
He eventually granted me a spot
In his dominated world.

        When will you do the same for me?

 
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Posted by on June 2, 2013 in old discoveries

 

#46

Ariana, briefly

She asks me
What I consider beautiful.

We are sitting under a willow.

She watches the sky through the leaves.
I watch the leaves
Flutter against the sky.

After we kiss
She leans back into me
And smiles at the colors of the sunset.
I simply wait for the sunset’s dissipation.
And then we kiss again.

Obviously the air lifts us
In different ways.

She will be reborn as a bird.
I, as a fluttering note.

 
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Posted by on June 1, 2013 in Uncategorized