“A diary,
documenting a life in hiding;
her pen,
an ally in the fighting,
inciting a literary rebellion
against Svengalis and Nazis—
cannibals,
tearing body and flesh
to pieces;
spitting out bones
like animals,
praying in the name of Jesus”
Just walkin into a room
requires all the courage
I can muster.
Exposed like a nerve.
Afraid to smile.
Do I let you in—
a place you don’t deserve
to make fun of my face
and call me “Herman Munster”?
Walkin up,
wearin Supreme,
holdin my skateboard,
takin jokes to the extreme,
trying to find my tribe,
my people group.
I’ll know when I’m home:
kind eyes find me
as collective lips pronounce,
“We-e-e a-a-are Groo-oot!”
“…distinguishing our friends on TikTok
from the system failure of the Matrix,
fictional agents who trip on the trip-wire
of a progressive déjà vu,
sounding the alarm for Pokémon
like Pikachu,
whose evolution to Raichu
seals the demise
of politicians and preachers
who wear a postmodern disguise.”
Those who live for the glamor and spotlight
drink drops of disco
that rages into the night.
Forget your westward expansion;
leave a fossil footprint of what’s right.
The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, he walked to the woman, stepping round tin cans, dead toys, and Pampers.
This poem was inspired by Cornelius Plantinga’s book Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be and the lyrics to Cake’s song “Rock ‘n’ Roll Lifestyle.” Bellyful. Passive-aggressive bomb Or self-medicated napalm? The neglect of this rhyme Revives the justification of your dime Spent on supersized fries While kids in the Congo…
My superhero alarm clock
Double-dares me to suit-up
For PE’s mile hike
Up life’s strange coming-of-age,
A call to braces, acne, and puberty.
I look outside my window
And wonder why others’
Faces aren’t melting,
Feeling the nuclear devastation
Of your leaving
I felt like Icarus, whose hubris led him to fly too close to sun, which melted wax on his shoulders, causing feathers to unfasten, and thus his hope of freedom to come crashing down like one of Zeus’s lightning bolts.