The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten


bee sting heat

leaching all water

ice bucket bent o’er

spilling why bothers

When I’m depressed,

I think o’ birds nests.

That’s not e’en a metaphor.

When life gives you limes,

squeeze them into fun shapes.

Don’t look undercover for the meaning, my friend:

look, I’ll give it to you right here.

Beach-scuttling crabs —

nothing wrong with that.

It ne’er scrutinized you;

look, but leave it ’lone.

When I’m distressed,

I think o’ worms in chalky dirt.

Not everything great rhymes with “vest”.

When the earth gives you worms,

pet them,

’cause worms are actually quite friendly.

cola polar bears

& blue cheese dressing;

Chef Webster’s best summer leaves

get my blessing.

The sun’s cured your cold —

here now, have some sniffles;

& the hand’s already havocked

by lukewarm morning bristles.

¡But that was the good part!

You didn’t e’en finish your chicken.

¿You didn’t like your chicken?

Can’t e’en eat chicken right,

so the stale blinding silence eats you.

Only the cat can forgive your sins.

Only it has the calm to forget.

You boarded your doors gainst the blizzard for years;

but in the summer thaw the clear cubes melt to tears.

The Joe Man is back.

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Posted in Poetry