I feel like my news aggregator’s
An enjoyment agitator.
Delaying my ingestion for day or two,
I must make a decision how to sort through
The things I can’t find time to read
Showing up in my newsfeed.
I received a couple requests to add an email subscription option. If you want poetry to be delivered to your inbox, be sure and click the link on the lower right of this page where it says email subscription. I still have the rss option up on the upper right if you use something like a google reader.
Thanks to all of you who’ve been reading. You make me smile.
Someone held up a mirror and I saw my pride.
All over my face was a defense that I’d
Prepared and had ready to go.
I stared at a steady show
Of “but”s and “if”s that I didn’t know
Existed before this reflection persisted
On showing me a token
Of a larger me that was broken.
There’s nothing wrong
With poems that are long,
But short poems sooner find their fate
In brevity that they create.
The florist section of the grocery store has exploded
And I’ve decoded this strange phenomenon to be a trap
Bridging the gap between men who had romance planned
And those who ran out for a dozen eggs. I understand
That it’s appropriate to buy flowers
But held under the powers
Of those inflated prices,
This crisis of whether or not I should buy roses plays in my head.
In a week’s time, I’m out fifty bucks and they’re dead.
Asking You Out
My brain molecules swirl around
Before they form a sound
And right now I’m in that speechless state,
Taking a moment to formulate
That thought that I’ll soon postulate
Assuming that you’d want to date.
I struggle with giving you glory in everything.
I hold onto things that I want to bring
Glory to me. Some days I feed off of it,
Finding it hard to stand by or sit
And watch something I do become translucent.
Though everyone sees the light that you sent,
Part of me’s in a bright orange vest as the one
Directing traffic toward your Son.
A woman in 1920
You were prettier blended in interlaced scanning
When forgiveness was panning
At one-sixth of the digital revolution,
And a frame-blending resolution
Added a softness to your skin.
I’m collecting images inside my head
So I can recall those instead
Of making up memories when you’re gone
And I’m left to live on
They say everything causes cancer
But there’s nothing with an answer
As to why or when you’ll have to go.
Just some time, ‘till I won’t know
What to do with myself.
Indeterminate Progress Spinner
The indeterminate progress spinner
Means that I’m a winner
For an amount of time that’s unquantifiable.