The strange, the bad, and the weird
some odd poetry to tide you over
Welll… *in my best Bernie Sanders voice*… I am once again asking you for submissions. Send me your missives and your verse, your tall tales and your fables, your cozies and your epics. I must have something to post, or you will all be regaled with my own scribbles, and my own scribbles only.
Speaking of which… Behold!
PSA: if this post is truncated in your email, it will be fully visible on the site or app
Implicit
or
Sequins of Dreams
or
The Day Words Sequestered My Mind
1
Figures of females silhouette on the bedroom wall
of the man upstairs. From the street, I read his
speech, and realize no one will die tonight. I drive on.
2
There was a two-fisted girl. She
met a four-
eyed man with a turtle
crawling up his back, shouting,
"Howdy, howdy!"
The man was shouting.
Turtles don't shout.
3
You swallow your gum, wondering
how many years it will hang out
in your gut, passing the time, never
daring to make friends with the digestible.
But you are in school and have a swing.
You swing high and aim
at nothing. You are the envy.
Crows line up to bid you "good-day."
A fish with frog eyes promises to
mail a prop
you ordered, just in time
for the dismount. Jumping
at your zenith and somersaulting.
(summer salting)
(some assaulting?)
No one cheers. But you do
meet five friends of Mr.
Hyper Bully --
Knuckle, Head, and three others
with cuneiform names.
Next stop: Uranus.
4
Hearts are floating through the mall.
Not the shape.
Literal hearts.
Veins and arteries dangling,
spitting. Protrusions bob
like knobs to doors that,
once opened, would
indubitably
break them.
No one believes it,
later,
on the way to church,
sitting in the car,
going nowhere.
All of them, every one a
cynic. "Duh key,"
someone says.
Now we're getting somewhere.
5
There was a caterpillar once...
Which reminds me
of a cat in a pillar.
It was in a back street, dark side
of town. Like the moon,
but more gravity
and cavities. Many cats
had died at this place,
at the end of this
alley. Gory
rags littered the concrete.
"Littered" is not a pun.
6
Weir dammed.
—as appeared in The American Drivel Review
If you caught all the hidden messages and puns in that one, I am sorry.
Speaking in Fonts
The women of my dreams scroll past
in calligraphy. Casually I angle
for Helvetica, but always show my
Comic Sans. From the streets wafts
a Times New Roman babble,
mingled with a few Arial Blacks.
I try not to be racist, I try really hard,
a Georgia by birth, but I don't make the names.
My girlfriend's a Tahoma girl, she
coos my name in Calibri but later
assaults me in Trebuchet.
I try to make an Impact before the crying
begins and I must Consolas her. Outside
a Century Gothic girl walks by
in full daylight, I'm not quite sure how.
A Courier calls to me in mimic Garamond,
carpe diem and tabula rasa, and though
I gather he means to raise my Serif,
maybe first I should retake Latin Bold.
Okay, okay… NOW I’m sorry.
Involuntary Demolition
The ceiling hailed around us.
We gathered the child,
bunkered him outside.
Lost a man
and some teeth. Afterwards,
the structure resembled
a carcass skinned,
inexpertly butchered.
What wood remained,
we burned
until the cold rain
turned coals to cinder.
That one I shan’t have to explain, but this next one came out of a simple thought: what if marriage were illegal?
Under the Influence
After the proposal, she hid her ring
in a flower pot and delivered
secret invitations beneath tables.
Shysters slid in at the reception
with babies and veils, setting fire
to the garden. Weeds and roses
burned to ash. The guests
scattered, and later, a video
circled the internet. In lieu
of donations, police distributed
the gifts and issued a statement:
"If you wanna rot, tie the knot."
This one explains itself in the title, I think
And Over There, a Dead Guy
It was half-eaten by the rock,
arms at angles
reserved for mountain roads, and eyes
fogged over, as if the morning dew
had found a home at last.
We spent several minutes
pointing up the cliff, debating
from which point he had fallen
and wondering whether
he was really dead
if no one had been there to hear it.
And finally, one for the end of the world. I warned you.
We are more than matted hair and flesh
In the town square, we waited for the end to come.
The sky thick with lights, and I still remember
the song we sang, how'd it go?
There were cars
in the parking lots, their alarms sounding.
We played along, pounding with the beat.
The adams married the eves
last summer. Their skin melted with the heat
and chemicals
into one viscid flesh. We stayed together,
but we never touched.
The times have changed, my dear. We ignored
the phone, it's not supposed to ring
anymore. So many tones
gone, living in memory alone, where you still smile
at me when I'm close.
These hands are sticky,
where I pull your buns from the oven.
I climb the spruce out back, look down on you
as you call my name.
They're ready, you say,
shouting now. The sun is up.
Sap clings to my palms, and your head
lies in my lap, darkness almost complete.
Now for your honest opinions! A poll! Not at all obligatory! Tell me more in the comments!
If you liked this, why not—?
That poll is not one I can partake in. You said choose your favorite, but you don't have them listed...😮💨