Half Past Noon

People who didn’t live pre-Internet can’t grasp how devoid of ideas life in my hometown was. The only bookstores sold Bibles the size of coffee tables and dashboard Virgin Marys that glowed in the dark. I stopped in the middle of the SAT to memorize a poem, because I thought, This is a great work of art and I’ll never see it again.

Mary Karr – best interview ever

Zucchini

O dread species!
overachiever, overpopulator,
you bore me to death.

At night while the stars hone their points
you multiply and inflate into obscene gestures.

You are the season’s homeless.
We pass you among us like orphaned children
until our sense of charity dissolves
under the sheer weight of your numbers.

Then do we stack you like firewood
and pray for lightening to strike.

Robert Samarotto

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

            fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

      beauty          . how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
        (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

          thou answerest

them only with

                            spring

– e. e. cummmings

Sarah Palin poetry. I hope no one has posted this yet, because it is brilliant.