JORDAN STEMPLEMAN


IN A SENSE A SCENE

My wife’s head has exploded.
She brings new CD’s into the house
and I can’t even begin to think where
does one get a CD these days?
I go out looking for dog poop.
Just across the street, I find all the dog poop
anyone could ever want, so I say,
these black bags will be filled by me!
I believe what punishes us is our knotted
self guidance, like when it doesn’t work out
right, I mean. I used to think it was idleness.
All those times I blamed idleness and
the over there! I think poetry
has ruined my self esteem. And then Ryan
writes back, You being a poet has sometimes
ruined my self esteem. So, we all tell each other
we’re going to workout, take care of our bodies,
our heads, try to mix the two together, then
eat up the showers alone before we talk about anything
resembling a loving approach.
 
 
 
 
VERGING

I smiled each day, lack of the better word, like so much
of the narrow limits that once behaved like the day
before and now only honest they do.
I will grow up to one day know I am completely
uncooperative. There will be tons of opened soup cans
and stew cans where I’ve gone wild and balled and
sometimes what will be torn out of them will blow and possibly be
uncharacteristic of the place where children join in.
The blonde hero or the cold breath’d birds?
The white bummed out hen or the breakfast before
saving one’s own hide? Like tree trunks of humor that do not
limp, I’ve never once met anyone I keep waving to, and start waving
and waving until they never clean up right or ever away.
So I’m hoping there to me I know what gives me this face
to do everything with. And I say to this face, here
is where I need you to come back to. Wherever I’m going
understands right here.
 
 
 
 



Comments are closed.