Square Peg (recently
of Round Hole)
bites everyone’s legs
at LexiCon Shack,
where a “the” and the “a”
sign art in the back.
The lines run-on
on adverbial tracks
in panel discussions,
where everyone’s
rushing for a
girl from Flushing
with free Oxford
commas in a
sack.
The Had Matter
looked on uffishly
as photons and
gluons danced
around tea time.
“We want matter!”
they screamed in
frenetic frenzy.
“We want to matter!”
“Both are important,
but you can’t be both,”
Had Matter said.
That is how photons
and gluons
lack matter,
but always will.
So stoked to share that I’ve accepted a freelance blogging gig at Read Poetry, an online community that celebrates poetry as a form of expression, activism, & self-care.
My first article shares 4 poetry prompts to support self-care and mental wellbeing. Check it out on readpoetry.com, and be sure to subscribe to their blog to get future articles from myself and the rest of the Read Poetry blogging team!
Yesterday was scheduled
as the best day ever, but
no one invited me. It
was spar for the spores,
except I was the organizer.
Hurdle turtles but
me did forgets and
all I could do was
send me regrets,
get solace from my
pets, and generally
be general
(or less)
The amygdala gala,
where synapses exceed
plasticity. Red carpet
flash and scowl. All
the dresses… it’s
for charity, really.
Sterilize rationality
and empathy, unite
untied emotions.
While here try the
buffet. The sushi’s
been out for days
and it’s all the rage.
Just be me, just
a tree, with a path
and a brook, and
infectious shade
that cajoles you
into smiling. At me.
At that tree.
And my only
eccentricitree
is you am you
and me am me,
and I’m working
on ambulating,
but evolution
takes time.
Today I stumbled upon the phrase "Eppur si muove" ("and yet it moves"), tenuously attributed to Galileo after being forced to recant his claims that the Earth moves around the Sun to avoid being punished by the church.
The impact and rhythm of the phrase really inspired me, so I wrote a poem about it.
heads clucking
their tongues
with empty lungs,
phoneme collections,
vocal erections,
disappointing
reflections on
everything.
Sure, keep TLDRing.
Every fucking post a
self-congratulatory
award ceremony from
self-appointed leaders
with thought bubbles
bursting, yet empty.
Yes, I mean you.