Win tee

Do I really know you?
Do I know’mmm?
Circular saw
Drum of

They put me in an
Upside down frisbee
Full of Detroit’s finest rain
“No?” And “nothing? At all?”

A coil
A comma
A slight twist
A clenched fist
A dried up donut
The last ellipses
Before it’s just
A hypothesis


Old best friend
Crossed me out
Of an elaborate
Equation to her
Higher Power

Some math
Text booked
Everyone else
Straight to hell

Stale sensibilities settle

No, water bugs don’t swim
And I love god and angels, too

I poke holes in the
Top of my bell jar
Mind and dream
To give you air

Thanks for
Life to


I live you –
Waltz on
Your feet
A ghost

Fetae in
A golf ball
In a frittered
ball of yarn

Molten in core
many a seed
of a man’s

our secret-lings
are entombed
cause lovers
are painfully

just some little girl’s fingers
flicking the roly poly into a crevasse
in the sidewalk, we hop over, for good luck

Just tell me this
Do you love me?
Circle yes or no

He hates that

21 thoughts on “Win tee

  1. Your opening makes me think that to know someone, you have to cut them open in the nastiest of ways—with a circular saw—gruesome and grotesque the process, and likewise the findings inside. And then, if you’re successful in stripping someone down to find out who they are, going through all that pain … then hooray, you win a tee shirt. πŸ˜‰ Also, maybe your title is “Winter” without the “rrrr” (roar). Perhaps you’ve lost your growl. Or maybe it’s “Went eeeeee” like while swinging at the park. πŸ™‚ Or none of this, of course.

    The upside-down Frisbee sounds like a giant petri dish. I love that comma after “nothing,” like the Frisbee is going to be thrown full of rain that equals “no” and “nothing” and it’s going to be thrown “at all.” Everyone will be hit by this empty mixture.

    Love your nope/mope rhyme. And all your twisty/twisted things. A metal coil. A coiled phone cord (old school). A comma (journaling … writing poems … pausing for reflection … come-uh … com[munication]-uh … confusion).

    Also, apparently “Nope” is the name of a band.

    Dried up donut/last ellipsis … that’s death, or at least an emotional state that feels like death. Or the last time you will allow there to be a blank of missing information you can’t fill in, a continuation you can’t describe/predict.

    Hypotenuse. Looking at or approaching things from the “right” angle. The longest line/path from Point A to Point B. Hi[gh]-pot, e-noose.

    I know what the “Higher Power” paragraph is about because you told me about this girl, but if I didn’t I would also read into this that she’s crossing you out of the equation that allows you to get to her, and therefore she has the higher power … leaving you powerless.

    The next part is about a text-message-goodbye followed by a swift departure. You’re trying to get over it, and ew, water bugs are roaches so I think you’re playing with words in a very undercover way and making a drug reference. Like yes, you may use medicinal marijuana once in a while but you also love God (and Colorado). πŸ˜‰ Your bell jar is a mental state but it is also a homemade bong. Am I crazy? And yes, you’re collecting light-up creatures in a jar. Fire might be a reference to burning/passion but also firing someone from a friendship and then flying away, having given you life and then having taken it away.

    “Waltz on your feet” makes me think of a little girl being carried around the dance floor by her dad. Weight-less equals Wait less. For underdeveloped babies the size of golf balls. Frittered yarn = you pulling out your hair. In general, the world is making you crazy and you feel like a little girl with no control, hot/passionate/fiery inside but flicking your womb/core/soul away to cower inside a dark hole. Suddenly you’re a small girl in grade school asking out a boy, terrified of rejection. This isn’t about the boy; this is about how you feel about yourself and what you fear the world thinks of you.

    I could say more, but I’m exhausted. I just wanted you to know your poetry is worthy of this sort of response. I just can’t always do it because it takes a lot out of me. But every once in a while. πŸ™‚ If you like it, of course.

  2. just… again, i gotta say… you really outdid yourself on this analysis. it’s genius. it reminds me of this class i daydreamed through in college. it was a literature/poetry analysis course. the only time i payed attention was when we discussed Kafka’s Metamorphosis, The Yellow Wallpaper by Gilman, and A&P by Updike. you know i zoned through the rest, if i can name specifics. the point is, when i was able to engage, i thoroughly enjoyed it. it was a class made for me. i loved hearing what people had to say. actually, nobody said anything nearly as interesting your perceptions. i can see the chemicals swirling around in your brain from here. they look like a kaleidoscope of neat graphs and charts. somehow. what am i talking about? pass me more lsd.

    • Lit classes that spent any reasonable amount of time on poetry were my favorites. I’ve always been pretty awesome at breaking them down. I’ve impressed many teachers, needless to say … and probably taught them a few things. I do this to people too. My husband will introduce me to someone out in the community; I’ll observe their behavior, mannerisms, and speech; and then I’ll give my husband a rundown on their psychological state and background. It’s so much fun I tell him what the person has probably experienced and then he finds out weeks later after spending more time with him/her that I was right. Super cool … and sad too. I can pretty quickly determine which people in a room have experienced horribly traumatic things but smile through it and never tell anyone.

  3. I thought the poem beyond intriguing, and have to confess, much enjoyed the additional commentary as well. My comment is in no way going to compare…I liked the voice, the quick, flip of the words, the read a loud was fierce (I always do that) and the language will have me pondering long after the comments been posted. A return visit perhaps…before this OpenLinkNight draws to a close…thanks for linking up!

    • thank you so much, tashtoo. what a treat! it is so nice to hear such a wonderful compliment. you have just helped make my day *this* much better. thanks for being here, my new friend! ❀ ❀

  4. very cool…made me think a bit of gregory corso…beat poet…because you twist words so easy in this…some fav parts along the way…

    They put me in an
    Upside down frisbee
    Full of Detroit’s finest rain…nice

    and the dancing like a ghost on the feet, that has a very warm feel in comparison to other parts….def enjoyed…smiles.

    • Thank you so much! That made me feel really good. My response sounds so simple, I’m sorry. I’m like an airplane sitting in the O’Hare lot, waiting for some jet fuel. The point is, I really appreciate your time and consideration.

  5. When I saw the line at the top of your page, “sublime absurdism”, I thought, this ought to be good. It was. Your poem fits that definition perfectly. I have to say though, I really think there should be a dash in sublime (sub-lime) juss sayin

  6. The grand tradition of the surreal as it was originally setout in ’20s manifestos. This is allusion woven into automatic writing – threading the “now” into the “could be” or “might have been” to produce spontaneity, novelty, and unique productions. Well realized.

    • flattered to the moon. absolutely blown away – thank you times one million or so. who’s to say? could go on forever? but is there a forever? or was that something… from… my past… you stirred up. a child’s mind feels time differently than an adult’s mind does… god – just Thank You, dear reader.

  7. I’m not going to pretend I understand this piece – I would never condescend to you. I applaud your inventiveness, your originality, your courage. This is definitely not just another poem. Bravo, lady!

    • thanks so much! maybe i’ll give away a few of my secrets … but the point is, i hope it gave you some kind of Feeling. everything is about Feeling. we are so numbed and dumbed in this desensitized world (well, i’m speaking for myself) – it takes effort to Feel. to dream “out there” – am i making any sense? thanks for the bravo! never thought i’d hear those words. i’ve been hiding my poems since the first time i held a pen. all i know is your “Bravo” gave me a feeling – a good one. thank you.

    • Hehe, thank you. Yay! I got a “ha” out if you. I love that. In the midst of these woolen clouds, there is obviously sadness, but lots of hilarity in how absurd it is. I could be digging ditches in a third world country, but am too busy weeping over my own self afflicted ailments. We are meant to struggle – our first world problems are worthless, but totally human.

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