Hot Dog Fishing

Every bear has a day of monopoly as it hunts salmon, thinking: “well, I don’t think I could do anything wrong during this fishing trip. Hey Larry, check out this one-hander!”

The salmon in the stream know they’re approaching a creature who’s in the zone, and most of them still try to escape its clutches, not figuring the percentage chance that they have of getting away is actually quite high (especially since this particular bear fills up on five salmon, where most other adults like six or even seven).

Larry watches this streaky bear attempt a one-handed catch of a leaping salmon, and he knows such things rarely happen unless the fisher were to impale said fish on its claws, and most salmon are substantial enough to simply bounce off and swim away, or at the very worst lose a few scales and become a laughingstock.

The salmon smacks our hero square in the pad of his paw, only to see another paw close in around its head, securing the catch.

“Hey Doorman, you said one-hander, not two-hander!”

“Dude, I don’t have thumbs, and I deadened the fish on my paw before getting the second one in there. You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Larry is a bit jealous of Doorman, but his male instinct won’t let him admit it.

Words of Inspiration

I only hope I can impart
some small change to society,

just as a urine stain,
no matter how minute,

has the power to completely alter
a loveseat’s legacy.

Rorschach Rush

When I
begin
a poem,

I seek
resonant
sound
from words.

Spark.
Broil.
Crisp.
Black.

Crème brûlée
would be
the next

logical
step for that
word bank.

Howdy!

My intent for this blog is to introduce people to my poetry. I enjoy writing and reading it, so I think other people will enjoy reading it as well! If you’re curious, my style is mostly stream of consciousness, and I love connecting things that wouldn’t normally be connected.

I’m currently a junior writing major at DePauw University (down in Greencastle, IN), and this past semester, I made the resolution to designate poetry as my passion. With that existentialist dilemma behind me, I’ve begun to make life decisions based upon my future as a starving artist. I figure a career in editing or copywriting may suit me best, since English probably won’t let me cheat on her (the overbearing mistress!).

Now that we’re nice and familiar with each other, let’s get crackin’ on some poetry!

Swivel Rights

Mannequin rest is a sign of weakness

and cheap plastic.

My staff at Sears believes

that since they look human,

they should receive pay and benefits

like my employees.

 

I have to keep telling them

that they were built and purchased

for the sole purpose of displaying garments,

and I’m not to blame

for their poor quality of life.

 

How am I supposed to provide

services for company property?

I’ve tided them over by letting them form

an in-store mannequin union in the basement,

but until they’re legitimate,

They’re not getting a red cent from me.