National Poetry Month 04/2020

Of Vanity

A mask to hide my face
Is a most welcome thing
My ragged teeth that do
No favors to my countenance
Will be hidden while my eyes
The deepest impression of
A possessed and tortured soul
Will stand out like the sun
Though due to suffering
I can achieve not a smile

Overreaction

Competition is the
most American thing
A drive to climb over
each other’s shoulders
to grab the last ventilator
Drive sales forsake hopes
The smallest and slowest
perpetually crushed by
the strength of many

Adept Maladroit

A rake up the spinal column
Pulling every nerve out
Hang like noodles from strainer
Every word a million screams

Won’t calm down or meet
The world, the feet and gout
A million needle tacks alive
This solitude that teems

Regional Stew

Hello, you beautiful
provincial college city
Your head is so big and
filled with alcohol and
your fatty pockets ripe
with weed

Oh my! Your petty ways
are amplified by waves
of echoing wired up trees
Satellite gods who
broadcast intimidating
spells on relative few

Entwined In Empty Spaces

Lines shimmer
Everything that
was once bad
is now shiny,
and brand new

Once, oh no,
at one time
it was so,
very bad

Yet I breathe,
now the globe’s
aglow and
soul’s renewed
in you

Corin Tucker

That woman plays guitar
She’s an actual star
Explodes radiation
She rains over everything

That woman’s a beacon
For every man’s distress
She’s showing girls the way
Working every Friday

For Father On Easter

Ragged feelings return
When it ends who goes where?
Two a.m. fight for touch
Hand in a woman’s clutch

Circle in bed, die tonight
Smugly go to nothing
Cannot return to prove
You were right all along

Seems when you’re gone you’re gone

Malindromes

Well inside
I know you liked
The person breaking
More than me
It gave you
A project

They want
A person to
Bandage soul
And easy to control
I’m no rabbit to
Hop away

Invisible Threads

Some people say that
water has no flavor
but the freshest
most pure water
tastes like all of life
combined

Magic is like the
way water tastes
It’s the static charge
of electric pulse
that pumps all of our
hearts

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