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JIM’S SOLITARY EXISTENCE

– March 18, 2012Posted in: poetry

Boy, does Jim ever love his solitude! He doesn’t mind the filth that surrounds him. Many find his solitary, filthy existence ugly, but he really doesnt give a shit. His overflowing ashcans are filled with unobtainable dollars. Neighborhood children scream under his stairway, sobbing in armies. Old men weep in the park across the street. He is quite judgmental. This results in a kind of mentally incomprehensible prison, a soulless jailhouse.

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metamorphosis

– March 16, 2012Posted in: poetry

I awoke as a large bug. I know what you’re thinking. That I stole this idea from Kafka. Not true. OK, it’s partly true. OK, OK, it’s totally true. But I didn’t really awake as a large bug, so I’m nos stealing nothing from nobody no-how. I awoke as I usually do, befuddled and needing to pee. Peeing relieves my bladder but never my befuddledness. I fool myself into thinking a strong cup of coffee will do that, and although it does turn down the volume of my addled brain’s transmissions slightly, it doesn’t do much, truth be told, to de-web the intricacies and complexities of my cobwebbed mind. This mental untidiness dogs at my heels all day, and the stuff I do to tidy it up is like arranging deck chairs on a magic, swirling ship.

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