...more poor tree...
Alohahaha friends. I appreciate you reading what I write, even if just for a sentence or two. I have been expressing vocabularily on my lonely for about eighteen months now and my brain feels like it has adequately filled a space. But this brain, free solo climber of the depths of hot garbage, needs to grow. This brain, zombie lunatic flesh eater of piss-whine alley graveyards, wants to meet and eat more brains.
So I have sent it on a mission to find and make friends. The next handful of weeks on Thee CansaFis Foote Show I will be focusing on collaboration. Some are in progress, a few are done and being tidied, and some have yet to start.
Talk to me in the comments section if you have any interest in collaborating. I am open to co-prompts, penpalling, roasts, investigations, exhumations, salutations and saucy celebrations. I want to meet more of the yous like you. Maybe we can make magic (together)?
To kick off this era of connection and writerly recreation my first semi-collaboration was prompted by fellow writer/poet/human
. The prompt was to create humorous poems in traditional forms. I also included a traditional poem in a humorous form. I can’t tell you which which is which but I am certain this this is the start of something something.Thanks Tara for your prompt.
“I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.”
-Steven Wright-
TOES (of any species) - style of terza rima
Have you seen my feet
Asked a beast with no shoes
Tapping out a beat
Sounded like some bad blues
Sat down on a stool
Snuck a sniff of brown booze
Seemed pretty cool
The sound of their drum
I grinned like a fool
Tried to play dumb
Their shoes were petite
Covered in rum
It seemed rather sweet
The smell of our feet
GARBAGE DAY - style of villanelle
The brown plastic bin knows where I’ve been
Inside of this trash can I become trash man
I hold all I throw out, I hold all I throw in
I am a garbage djinn
Compostable tarzan
The brown plastic bin knows where I’ve been
Tangled hair, kale green
Hungry heart, half eaten flan
I hold all I throw out, I hold all I throw in
Uneasy, unsure, uncertain, unclean
Nubbish, rubbish, broken crayon
The brown plastic bin knows where I’ve been
Gravy eyes closed, I am seen
Olive oil veins dusted in crumbly pecan
I hold all I throw out, I hold all I throw in
Crumpled wet news tattooed headlines on my skin
Red pepper pumpkin curry spray tan
The brown plastic bin knows where I’ve been
I hold all I throw out, I hold all I throw in
BITS OF WORN UPHOLSTERY - style of sonnet
The wolf stares away from the cloud covered moon
On a dog scented corner ripped navy polar fleece
Slow breathing softness as we spoon
Forgotten clocks count around our sleeping peace
Inevitable holes grow inside tight knee high socks
Naked feet now here to hide
Clipped wing crows cry to hiking hawks
Hovering winding wind trails at our side
Ripped clouds masked in morning
Puddled reflections over rain wet gravel
Symphonic coyote clatter warning
Chewed blanket corners tickle and unravel
The night tells the day it will be home soon
The wolf stares away from the cloud covered moon
UNEXPECTED THINGS (THAT CATCH THE SUDDEN ATTENTION OF A DOG) - style of haiku
Come on, please listen
Sit. Put your paw in my hand.
Oh shit. A gopher!
NOT AN EXHAUSTIVE LIST - style of foote
Why is everyone trying to $%#& their phone?
We are the wet dreams of our fathers and mothers
A journal is for recording journeys, and a yournal is for pissing into
Everyone takes themselves way too seriously on the internet
The more on I am, the moron I am
One day I’ll be a microphone
Your parents should give you a catch phrase instead of a surname
Yoda is a liar. There is try.
We don’t understand the gravity of the situation because none of us have degrees in physics.
To do: Audit classes at drill sergeant school
A.I. will make us all better by un-employing anyone who advertises for a living
Folks who say “my way or the highway” should have to build their own roads
A good day is when your friend busts you out of a maximum security prison
Even the zit on my taint has a purpose
Vodka is good deodorant
I want to quit running meetings and start walking them instead
My past life regression made me want to move forward
Don’t forget hugs
Some words look better than they read
It doesn’t matter if you don’t have manners
“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
-John Cage-
…if you are interested in making something with me please say hello below…
Excited to read what you have in store! And really wish Substack would make it easier to engage with sections of your writing like highlights. So many epic phrases!
Well done! My fav poem is Not An Exhaustive List but my fav line is from the garbage poem "I hold all I throw out, I hold all I throw in". A universal truth right there in the garbage.