We had such great time at Printers Row this year! Our magnetic poetry board was a hit and so was our exquisite corpse, rendered for eternity below!
I’ve made everything ready for the poetry apocalypse,
and I’m wearing black leather shoes.
Five book bags, ten hats. So I can tell the story
of whomever I choose.
So much to carry, each with its own epistle of homage;
so much to fear with shadows tall
as the skyline. How can the world be so
like a spine? Stand tall and be
proud of who you are.
The bouncer named Rome has returned to his hometown
where the girls don’t need to tuck it in. Where that’s a sin.
But where untucking might unleash even more
when consequences are in store. I knew the baby would be cold,
but we needed to go.
So I left him and bought a one-way
ticket to Barcelona. The sky
tasted like almonds. And everywhere I went,
the moment seemed to follow. As I wrote,
the sun passed, leaving only my shadow
and a breeze of words I could never write down,
on my tongue, swallowed.
Things I’ve always wanted to feel and record onto a page.
We do not really need pictures
to tell a story; words are masterful. Glide me a drink,
I said, seeking, if nothing else,
simple refreshment. But sometimes images can bolster
the poetry: story luck, storyland.
You can’t judge a rhino by its horns; there’s more
to evolution than protrusions in threes.
But the Rhino had friends on the way; they’d soon arrive
and take everyone
to Botswana, Barcelona, Berlin. Ineffable as a chalk drawing,
whose concepts weep
at the onset of rain. And the White Sox lost
6-4 after leading 4-0. Turns out
the secret to evolution is things in fours. You see me
as your easy beast,
feeling sad and unhappy as you hope me to be. But control
this piece of meat and use her for your
fleshy feast. I may not be your typical
model size, but God said I’m
his prize. Pardon me if I’m not sociable to your feet;
I’ll keep being me
Check out more of our Printers Row #PRLF15 photos here - and see you next year!