Poetry Thoughts and Entries

What is a drawing, other than the end of a line?

Draw me out, with brittle charcoal and whittled pencil

Onto whatever surface you can find.

After all, don’t I look better on paper

Than under those merciless rays that overwhelm the outdoors?

Where the external is viewed in however many angles,

And the reflected light is equal parts piercing and protective?

Here, my veins aren’t visible; you don’t see a single pimple or stray strand

Or even what the outline of my face looks like.

Here, in a line or two, the internal is traced, a strand of genotype that was never expressed.

Right, left, right, left, right, and then left again;

Though a dimension is lacking, it is almost easier to get lost.


Put Away Your Phone

Put away the phone, they say.

Your eyesight will start to wither away;

You don’t want to wear eyeglasses

Before your fiftieth birthday.

Your vision will slowly fade to black

And your ears will try to make up for the lack 

Of light striking your retina.

You’ll hear the crawling of sticky spider legs

And the hoarse breathing of the man on the corner who begs,

Birds laying eggs,

Workmen hammering pegs,

People in McFadden’s Saloon downing kegs upon kegs.

Your ears will receive sensations that will drive you mad;

You’ll go batty and wacky and become oh so sad.

PLEASE, don’t stare at your phone, it’s bad;

It’s not worth it-

Don’t be like your dad.