Thursday, March 20, 2014


I just want to clear up
some confusion.

These blog posts

I do not write poems.
I have prose
running through my veins.

I write posts this way
because I have an aversion
A strong aversion.

As in,


Once upon a time,
I used to write poems.
High school, you know?

Here's one:

Pull the bow smoothly now,
Like a rake in a zen garden.
Curve your chin now,
With the arc of the sugar bowl handle.
Press the strings
Till your fingers bleed,
Like you press the keys of that old typewriter
Just to hear the click-clack of the past.

And play, now! Play!

Concert halls await you now,
With packed houses of bow ties
And fur coats,
Ready to sift you to nothing
With their classically-trained ears.

Oh give up, now! Give up!

Grab that violin by the neck
And make a fiddle of it.
Climb up onto the roof of your house
And play to the birds!
The birds, now!
Who are squawking and cheeping
As they hurry south
For the winter.

A little story about this.

On a whim,
I entered that poem
into a contest for the lit mag
in high school.

And one day,
they read my name
on the morning announcements,
saying that I had won
some prize.

The heads of everyone in homeroom
turned to look at me.

For four years,
I'd done everything I could
to not draw any attention to myself.
And suddenly 
all these people
who didn't necessarily really know
who I was
knew that I wrote poems.

I was mortified.

All day people congratulated me,
and I wanted to slip underneath
the linoleum floor tiles.

By the next day,
everyone had forgotten my fame.

And I never even got a copy
of the magazine
to see my work in print.

So yeah.
I don't write poems.

That year,
I was doing a picture of the day project.
This is the picture from that day.
I captioned it,
"Wednesday, March 25.
Oh, the shame."
Funnily enough,
I am wearing that sweatshirt
as I type this.

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