My Bark is Bigger than My Bite
A piece written by my nephew Aaron, a gifted, up-and-coming poet…
Chicken of the sea, shiny silver scales hailing: “We need to evolve tonight”
Left fin extended, saluting civil upheaval via southern bend
That’s the reflection from the blurry shimmering in the murky waters
My soul swims in pollution with no HAZMAT mask on
Huckleberry Finn thumbing is dumbfounding,
Posing by the obvious usage of goblin hobnobbing
I’m all stumbling summersaults and awkward umbrage mistaken for
High stakes hatred
Who’s raking the leaves on my lawn?
Leave me alone, I’m some kind of dumb and fumbling all thumbs via
Scummy mentality
Trying to scrape together leverage so I can muster a “hello” to the
Barista as she creates my coffee
Who can afford more lumbar support or stomach average lunches so
They can squish between cleavage and beaver within skinny slivers of
Fantastic orgasms?
Spin a better lattice so my yellowish teeth grit fits knitted with indented intonation
Perfectly interwoven with worn out welcomes of worrisome shivers shouting-out so
Starstruck, thumb-sucking dumb fucks
Against my luck I snuck under the radar to find celibacy sanctuary
Statutory of limitations has expired
I’m hidden in a crooked rubber nook caroming
So slow-mo fancy HD
Am I gonna come out clean and finally stand on my own two feet?
I guess I’ll wait to see
The excitement is so palpable in a kaleidoscopic plethora of avenues
Philanthropic hope if only I’d win the lotto, so in the cards and you know it
I’ll be like the handout homie Great Gatsby
Life of the party intermixing gist with drinking but missing not for the lazy but
Because of social anxiety
Showcase my poetry in the Smithsonian only in a social state of dystopia
Let’s bask backwards for the marijuana brownie bake caked on my consciousness,
Complex logistics getting fragile helicopter moms pissed
Just get stuck in the most muggy of things stinging rigid that have no relevance
Cuz I’m busy crying about Forsberg retiring
Happy VD everybody!
~Aaron Daniel Purcell
2/14/2011
posted by Susan Adams Kauffman at 9:07 AM
3 Comments:
appears the artistic talent in this family is endless! Thank you for sharing! -RITK-
Mr. Purcell: I liked your question, "Who's raking the leaves on my lawn?" It seems related to nothing else in the poem--it arises on its own, serves its own notice--which may be why it sounds to me like hope, like grace. But I admit I am bent in that direction... I appreciate the ordeal of "trying to scrape together leverage." Thanks for noticing. Why wait? And, thanks, Susan, for drawing my attention to your nephew's work.
Ripe with vivid imagery, both sad and ironic, "My Bark" was really moving. I really like it when a simple title is connected to a complicated poem. I'm glad I read it.
Michelle LeJeune
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