Tag: Animal poems
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Syringe
The syringe seems to scream out of its needled Proboscis as it approaches your arm, so terrified children are of this little mosquito some will gnash and scratch and destroy the windows to avoid being in the same room with one. If you listen closely, you can always hear one buzzing in the air around […]
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Tortellini
Whenever I see someone walking a dog down the street my face turns into a Tortellini and I start to feel like I’m 9 again and about to protect an insecure kid from being punched in the back by a future crack addict bully on the playground. I think this might have something to do […]
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French Fry
It was a sunny afternoon. It was the kind you dream about. Which was why when I saw a man urinating on a car in the parking lot after work, I paid no mind to it and continued on my routine walk home. Nothing was going to get in the way of my good time […]
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Rotini
This morning I can’t find a thought to anchor the boat of inner peace I’ve been trying to sail in bad weather for god knows how long. Some mornings it’s easy to slow myself down and wait for my waves of emotion to die down until I can see to the bottom of why I […]
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Deer
I didn’t tell you, I now have to sneak up on myself in order to think clearly. I didn’t tell you the truth when we went walking in the field out back. Which was that I walked behind you where you wouldn’t see me so, I could look up at the sky without you getting […]
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Bee
When I see a bee, I lose myself in its golden light the same way the stay-at-home shaman is held in a kind of trance by the slow dance of honey drizzling down onto a slice of toast. I’m a dream of a bee in the hive. Which is where I spend the cold nights […]
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Zombie
I’ve played zombie video games and seen so many zombie movies you could stretch them out and make a sausage factory out of them. But I’m really at a loss for words when it comes to understanding why. I imagine a zombie walking around being pulled in different directions by things that emit heat and […]
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Words
Words stung when they landed in my eye or got caught in my throat. They’d dangle there, struggling to break free. Then they’d tear themselves apart trying to pull back off into a familiar syntax. Silence like this isn’t interested in playing peekaboo, come to find out, isn’t game for coming to find you hiding […]
the real subject is always you 