A Collection of Short Poems

Short in length, substance, meaning, editing, and just about everything else.


Viral conjunctivitis.
Ten days in, and here comes this.
Only me.


(With apologies to the Stones)

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
And I said
Make me a sandwich.


There once was a girl.
I didn’t talk to her.


Have you ever once thought
(As you sit here and rot)
That there might be someone
Out there hoping
For the very same thing
As you.


She stands
He sits
She speaks
He hears
She walks by
He dreams on
She lives life
He imagines it.


Seconds left
Fourth down
Nine yards
Time out
Loud words
Sound plan
Yell hike
Fade back
Find man
Pass ball…



This is my theme for English B
I’m a white male.
I have never suffered.
I cannot know what suffering is because I have been singularly privileged by my gender and the color of my skin.
This is my theme for English B.


Still night is shattered
Shnooky knocking on the door
I say screw your war.


I feel the urge to write
to express thoughts
to voice concerns
to be able to remember


purple anteater killjoy eyeball foodstuffs.
deathray shark blue leather handbag.
soup tomato panda kung pao walrus.
iceberg hasselhoff lettuce granola bar.
flaming wall psychic red balloon.
air love glass fork pink plantains


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