posted by Sean Kilpatrick at 9:34 PM
melodrama infused the eveningthe prettiest parts of things kept moving into my peripheral visionmy language was trite and clichedi saw ramen noodles hovering in front of most things, for some reason, and a bear shook my hand in my other hand was a package of ramen noodles that the bear stared ati said it was ‘for wigs’at home i cooked the ramen and wore it on my headi saw in the mirror that the prettiest aspects of ramen noodles had been overcookedi created a kind of ‘ramen noodles burial site’ on the floor by the stove and lay on itin the morning my hands, feet, face, arms, legs, neck, and body were overpackaged i hovered in front of the stove and moved into my peripheral visionmost things felt like aspects of my wig so i moved my head in most directions i just published a poem in the comment's section of your blog
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Sean Kilpatrick, published in two hundred literary magazines, edits prose and teaches composition. tangorobot at gmail.com
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melodrama infused the evening
the prettiest parts of things kept moving into my peripheral vision
my language was trite and cliched
i saw ramen noodles hovering in front of most things, for some reason, and a bear shook my hand
in my other hand was a package of ramen noodles that the bear stared at
i said it was ‘for wigs’
at home i cooked the ramen and wore it on my head
i saw in the mirror that the prettiest aspects of ramen noodles had been overcooked
i created a kind of ‘ramen noodles burial site’ on the floor by the stove
and lay on it
in the morning my hands, feet, face, arms, legs, neck, and body were overpackaged
i hovered in front of the stove and moved into my peripheral vision
most things felt like aspects of my wig so i moved my head in most directions
i just published a poem in the comment's section of your blog
Post a Comment
<< Home