[ToC]

 

3 POEMS

Nate Slawson

YOU ARE PAUL NEWMAN

I be yr horse
to whip & to
hold, not corpse,
not busted ankle
bone, & down
my throat you
can plug every
dime every
quarter, so I be
yr parking meter
& you be my
pipe cutting tool.


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YOU ARE BLACK SABBATH

bite my face
& I be yr dove
for all time.


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YOU ARE SAXOPHONE

is not yr soul
a tiny jukebox,
a pain in yr heart
sprung from the
blues, & which,
when I cup my
hand to yr chest,
be like thunder-
ous rain, like
wasps in a coffee
can, & thou
nettles & dry river-
bed, thou sermon
of fire, sister, & 
we hymnal of
matchsticks.

 

 

 

 

 


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These are not poems, these are essays. And they may or may not be about Zooey Deschanel. I’m not sure. But at least there are no curse words.