Accidents

I got hit by a car today:

door crumpling into my side like paper.

Emerged, shaky, new born-

Hey now, not my damn fault.

The irony is, the collision was a result of an emergency vehicle. Oh joy.

With gleeful ‘remorse’…

Having fallen off the wagon:

a low trick, I’ll result to rhyming verse.

Next time I go out at night,

i’ll update this thing first.

 

No, there was no new poetry yesterday. It was a  crazy day, as I’m nearing the end of my tenure here at this job, and thus have to wrap everything up like a frantic nesting mother-to-be. …I’m not sure if that’s an appropriate metaphor.

Regardless.

Normally last night I would have thrown up someone else’s work so as to vindicate myself, but instead I ended up at 826 Valencia at an event promoting a new book from McSweeney’s- Underground America, Narratives of Undocumented Lives. I haven’t gotten a chance to read it (my booklist is supremely long, and I’m far behind because 9 to 5s DO THAT to one’s summer reading… grr…) but from what was read last night, it’s a pretty powerful piece of work. Check it out if you get the chance.

 

Also, not to name any names, but one of the featured readers (who wasn’t affiliated with the book, but is familiar with the issue and from latin america and famous) spoke some damn fine spanish. Possibly because that’s his native language. I have a weakness for well-spoken spanish, man…

 

Left the mission, a weak-knee’d blush:

forget for the moment that you’re thirty.

Oh, that stupid peru ‘fro-

how it caught sticky eyes.

Good Morning, Oakland… It sucks to see you too.

Sad fact of my life #12:

the bathroom is my favorite room here.

Oh mirrored wall, oh windows-

Corporate oasis.

From the Post-Its of Friends VI

Happy Sunday, everyone.

Winner: Making me giggle at 6:30 AM when I wanted to be asleep. Impressive. Except also… sort of ew. You know.

Hobble stiff-legged, just in time:
Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Aaaahh. I lean to my left to–
Screw automatic flush!

-Maurice

Announcing the first THEME!!!!! Send me poems treating this subject and I will be a happy child. And probably publish you. We’ll start easy- my favorite thing in the world, and probably one of your favorites too:

Food.

Anything looks better than Suburbia…

…But Paris in particular.

White lights upon the twisting Seine:
Here began my mad affair with Paris.
I sit and pine from far away-
My love breathes through distance.

Musings on Myriad Meetings in 3 parts

I.

Maybe I find meetings lonely:

lost in a sea of sleepy coworkers.

Scanning the crowd for young folk,

anyone who knows me.

 

II.

Playing with numbers to paint smiles:

please don’t pretend those graphs are positive.

I think we all get it, man,

the economy sucks.

 

III.

Don’t blame me, blame the stock market:

It traded my dreams of fiji away.

It’s not that I don’t like you,

I just like beaches more.

Influenced by other things I’m doing at work

(Besides working, natch.)
So I might possibly be watching So You Think You Can Dance (dance, dance, dance, dance) on Youtube in lieu of the mailing I should be doing. And lo! Inspiration is to be found around every corner!

These tangled days dance together:
Stepping one two three to sounds of heartbeats.
A tango for minutes passing-
Pas de deux for time passed.

Seriously, it’s not downloading.

I will away Saturday morn:

But alas! alack! My iPod has failed.

The Princess Bride transfers not,

Doubtful it shall ever.

From the Post-its of Friends V

More delicious post-it creations from other people:

Winner: Rhyming AND a pretty shweet second line. Though I’m guessing if you brandished the first line, the fourth line wouldn’t be such a problem. Not that I’m advocating violence, or anything. Honest.

I am a knife held between palms:
I am not flesh but I do like to breathe.
Make my friends play nice tonight,
Tomorrow they won’t leave.

-Edo

Winner: Picking up on a trend and making all of us look like amateurs. Well done, Tim, I’m going to go hide in my cave until I can figure out how to be clever.

The joker jokes, the bat man bats:
Heath Ledger’s final punchline approaches.
Deny civil liberties–
A joke is batted in.

-Tim

Boys are stupid.

People are not watershed years:

I am not your excuse to be emo.

Then again, you give me things-

Friends’ sympathy,  headaches.

 

In other news, I’ll soon be introducing a new feature- challenges to write post-it poetry based on THEMES. I’ll pick my favorite 3 of those I’m sent, and they’ll be featured on a special challenge page. Exciting, right? I know you’re excited. You have nothing else to be excited about, man, you work in an office.

 

Also, in case you’ve forgotten, you can find the guidelines for writing your very own post-it poem right here.