Reluctant Writer. Teacher.
Hawking vocal contests for love letters.
i opened no notes, noted* abnormal matter albeit uncomplicated pedagogue under auditor absorption Scrutinized. thou allowance thus hath finished capacities
By No Real Balance2 years ago in Poets
Dear Daughter, Can new bring comfort? Asking for a friend who teaches science, and doesn’t understand literature. But really. These are legit questions
I am slathered in comfort waxed shaker board, clean Reclaimed, solid and handcrafted from 100-year-old wood salvaged, history maintained
You want a poem about comfort? Here . Words delivered on accident. What celebrated excuses made to inquire, claw past curiosity
I don’t want to write another poem I don’t want to think in metaphors I don’t want to dig out words of contentment I ain’t looking to laureate
Shall I compare thee to an active drill? Thou art both routine and unexpected Rough calls do test the internal system And requirements crowd too short notice
Pajama Day! Pajama Day! Coffee mug patrolling in flannel, thin sole slipping’ down linoleum. Teachers cheer in comfort
As faithful as a scientist I probed great writers complete works and bios in preparation for a vocal contest about comfort.
We all suck a teat for comfort tongue thrusting drag, pull, siphon whatever’s available mew, grunt, yip at competition mouths stuffed, eyes reach sideways
Close eyes Conjure brick, metal Outstretch palms Rub cinderblock Finger trace chalkboard Picture doors, heavy Slip feet cross linoleum
Here’s comfort to a scientist . I once pinned an insect Inspected, studied, learned patterns of licks, counted follicles
Jingle of tags sprinkler rattling rhythm Breeze slides mamba across skin. Lids heavy in dark houses. Upstairs window glows