Poems

Post your favorites.




MY GENDER by Neil Callahan

My gender is so narrow-minded
That all we can do
Is rely on weak similes, such as
“She is as flat as a board”

Fuck similes

My gender is the narrow alley
Where teenage girls have no choice but to go
After believing the words
“I love you”

My gender is the thin wire
On the cage that holds you
And keeps you washing dishes
While the TV flickers
And your husband snores

My gender is the thin trickle
That runs crimson from your nose
And clear from your eyes
And cannot see
Why you stay

My gender is the anorexic
That feels she has no choice
But to be beautiful
In order to succeed

My gender is the wrinkle
That you try so hard to hide
And the sliver that cracks your heart
As he cheats
And eternally pursues
Someone younger

My gender is the thin page in Genesis
That blames you
For my choices
My sins
And my death
And let's not forget the gender
Of the author of that timeless classic

My gender is so narrow minded
That sometimes I would give anything
To be castrated
But the fact is
It takes balls
To stand up
And tell the truth










From "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
and thats what it was all about
and his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
and his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracey
took all the kids to the zoo
and he let them sing on the bus
and his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
and his mother and father kissed alot
and the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
and his father always tucked him into bed at night
and was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
and thats what it was about
and his teacher gave him and A
and asked him to write more clearly
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
and the kids told him
that Father Tracey smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
and sometimes they would burn holes
that was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
and the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
and the kids told him why
his father and mother kissed alot
and his father never tucked him into bed at night
and his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
and he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
and thats what it was all about
and his professor gave him a strange look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
that was the year Father Tracey died
and he forgot how the end
of the Apostles Creed went
and he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
and the girl around the corner wore too much makeup
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
and at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring loudly

Thats why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
because thats what it was really all about
and he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didnt think
he could reach the kitchen.












Tiara By Mark Doty

"Peter died in a paper tiara
cut from a book of princess paper dolls;
he loved royalty, sashes

and jewels. I don't know,
he said, when he woke in the hospice,
I was watching the Bette Davis film festival

on Channel 57 and then
At the wake, the tension broke
when someone guessed

the casket closed because
he was in there in a big wig
and heels, and someone said,

You know he's always late,
he probably isn't here yet
he's still fixing his makeup.

And someone said he asked for it.
Asked for it
when all he did was go down

into the salt tide
of wanting as much as he wanted,
giving himself over so drunk

or stoned it almost didn't matter who,
though they were beautiful,
stampeding into him in the simple,

ravishing music of their hurry.
I think heaven is perfect stasis
poised over the realms of desire,

where dreaming and waking men lie
on the grass while wet horses
roam among them, huge fragments

of the music we die into
in the body's paradise.
Sometimes we wake not knowing

how we came to lie here,
or who has crowned us with these temporary,
precious stones. And given

the world's perfectly turned shoulders,
the deep hollows blued by longing,
given the irreplaceable silk

of horses rippling in orchards,
fruit thundering and chiming down,
given the ordinary marvels of form

and gravity, what could he do,
what could any of us ever do
but ask for it."

Wow.... those poems were awesome.