Poet’s Market

Against the (cash) flow of the free market, poetry is useless.

Poets practice idle worship.

A poem traffics in elicit non-sense, in that it asks for no response, checks for no pulse.

You can put a price on a poem, but it will never sell (out).

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Free Writing #4

Neurotics lick
Invisible wounds
At pity parties

God works in
Mysterious grays

I’m either
On the phone or
Away from my desk

How would you rate
Your experience
In general?

God sends angels
People send emoji
Thoughts and prayers

I’m on the phone
Under my desk
How would you
Like your refund?

Priests high-five
True believers on
Palm Sunday

I’m either
In pursuit or
On the run

How would you rate
My experience
In general?

Anxious poets
Fear the verse

Are these
Tide Pods
Gluten-free?

I’ll have to
Check with
My manager

Shovel Her Stoop

Forget snowstorms
And wind chills

I want Summer
In my hemisphere
This Valentine’s

A flirty girl
With strappy shoes
And silver toe rings
To boot

Soft soles
At the foot
Of a warm bed
To soothe

A see-through
Sundress
To remove

Before I shovel
Her stoop

Breakup Song

Tell me everything is alright.
Tell me everything is all right.
Tell me everything is alt-right.
Tell me I don’t look fat in these jeans.
Tell me I’m the one that got away.

Tell me I was your thirst.
Tell me you think of me when you hum.
Tell me I sweat the small stuff.
Tell me to grow a pair.
Tell me we are never ever getting back together.

Tell me you bought my book and the shipping was free.
Tell me I’m a white boy from the suburbs what do I know about “suffering.”
Tell me everything will be OK.
Tell me everything will be okay.
Tell me size more or less matters.

Tell me God is binge-watching us.
Tell me you never faked the news.
Tell me I’m more than a hound dog.
Tell me my poem is lovelier than a tree.
Tell me no man is a peninsula.

Tell me the meaning of strife.
Tell me everybody dies in the end.
Tell me there’s someone for everyone to disappoint.
Tell me it’s “lie down” not “lay down.”
Tell me nice guys let the girl finish first.

Tell me what will be will be no more.
Tell me if I liked it then I should’ve put a ring on it.
Tell me he doesn’t taste like me.
Tell me your name.
Again.