From the Archives: College Poetry
This is a poem from after my writing started to improve in college. Yes, I wrote plenty of poetry in high school, and some of it was okay. But most of it was bad teen poetry (BTP), and luckily, I was cured of this affliction (I think).
If you or someone you love has BTP, please head to the nearest library and read, read, read. And please, don't ever write about how your life is like a black hole.
Homage to My Butt
My butt goes out and decides
not to return. Little clump of fat, wandering
ill-lit streets, searching
for a dry muskrat den of its own.
The toilet seat, the sunk-in couch, a scrap
of celestial rug, even granny panties.
We all confer, in shambles, hoping to suck it back home
though I am most alone now.
No butt to call my own, no way to
sit or dance or fall flat
on my ass
which went out for a smoke
and hitchhiked to Montana.
I hope some dumb goat eats it.
If you or someone you love has BTP, please head to the nearest library and read, read, read. And please, don't ever write about how your life is like a black hole.
Homage to My Butt
My butt goes out and decides
not to return. Little clump of fat, wandering
ill-lit streets, searching
for a dry muskrat den of its own.
The toilet seat, the sunk-in couch, a scrap
of celestial rug, even granny panties.
We all confer, in shambles, hoping to suck it back home
though I am most alone now.
No butt to call my own, no way to
sit or dance or fall flat
on my ass
which went out for a smoke
and hitchhiked to Montana.
I hope some dumb goat eats it.
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