(no subject)
I hate writing papers for teachers I don't like, especially ones who think Nathanial Hawthorne wrote The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
Anyway, these are beautiful. I had never heard of Jeffery McDanial before until mojodragonfly posted some of his poems on poetry_slamming but oh, mmmmmm. Anyway, here they are and tomorrow I will reward myself for finishing my position paper (if I finish it) by listening to his poetry. Anyway, they're behind the lj-cut for those of you who don't care, but I think everyone should read them, and then send them to 30 people or a little girl with no ears and no nose will jump down from above your bed at night and suffocate you.
Lineage
by Jeffrey McDaniel
When I was little, I thought the word loin
and the word lion were the same thing.
I thought celibate was a kind of fish.
My parents wanted me to be well-rounded
so they threw dinner plates at each other
until I curled up into a little ball.
I’ve had the wind knocked out of me
but never the hurricane.
I’ve seen two hundred and sixty-three rats
in the past year, but never more than one at a time.
It could be the same rat, with a very high profile.
I know what it’s like to wear my liver on my sleeve.
I go into department stores, looking suspicious,
approach the security guard and say
what, what, I didn’t take anything.
Go ahead. Frisk me, big boy!
I go to the funerals of absolute strangers
and tell the grieving family: the soul of the deceased
is trapped inside my rib cage
and trying to reach you.
Once I thought I found love, but then I realized
I was just out of cigarettes.
Some people are boring because their parents
had boring sex the night they were conceived.
In the year thirteen hundred and thirteen,
a little boy died, who had the exact same scars as me.
The Quiet World
by Jeffrey McDaniel
in an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
when the phone rings, i put it
to my ear without saying hello.
in the restaurant, i point
at chicken noodle soup. i am
adjusting well to the new way.
late at night, i call my long-
distance lover and proudly say:
"i only used fifty-nine today.
i saved the rest for you."
when she doesn't respond, i know
she's used up all her words,
so i slowly whisper i love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
after that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
Anyway, these are beautiful. I had never heard of Jeffery McDanial before until mojodragonfly posted some of his poems on poetry_slamming but oh, mmmmmm. Anyway, here they are and tomorrow I will reward myself for finishing my position paper (if I finish it) by listening to his poetry. Anyway, they're behind the lj-cut for those of you who don't care, but I think everyone should read them, and then send them to 30 people or a little girl with no ears and no nose will jump down from above your bed at night and suffocate you.
Lineage
by Jeffrey McDaniel
When I was little, I thought the word loin
and the word lion were the same thing.
I thought celibate was a kind of fish.
My parents wanted me to be well-rounded
so they threw dinner plates at each other
until I curled up into a little ball.
I’ve had the wind knocked out of me
but never the hurricane.
I’ve seen two hundred and sixty-three rats
in the past year, but never more than one at a time.
It could be the same rat, with a very high profile.
I know what it’s like to wear my liver on my sleeve.
I go into department stores, looking suspicious,
approach the security guard and say
what, what, I didn’t take anything.
Go ahead. Frisk me, big boy!
I go to the funerals of absolute strangers
and tell the grieving family: the soul of the deceased
is trapped inside my rib cage
and trying to reach you.
Once I thought I found love, but then I realized
I was just out of cigarettes.
Some people are boring because their parents
had boring sex the night they were conceived.
In the year thirteen hundred and thirteen,
a little boy died, who had the exact same scars as me.
The Quiet World
by Jeffrey McDaniel
in an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
when the phone rings, i put it
to my ear without saying hello.
in the restaurant, i point
at chicken noodle soup. i am
adjusting well to the new way.
late at night, i call my long-
distance lover and proudly say:
"i only used fifty-nine today.
i saved the rest for you."
when she doesn't respond, i know
she's used up all her words,
so i slowly whisper i love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
after that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.