Okay, so I graduated in English. And I assume you guys want to see the real stuff. The stuff I actually studied. Well, here's a rough, rough draft of some poetry that I just recently wrote. It'll more than likely see a few revisions in the future.
P
I hear it in both
pain and pleasure.
I keep repeating that playful sound
pounding out of my mouth
made by
that bump
that flag on a flag
pole waving
its hands and arms
with that patriotic dance.
That sound, that
push from the lips.
They, the lips, pucker
press together, voiceless
bilabial plosive
nothing but the sound of air
squeezing through squeezing
lips.
Listen to the sound, the pop
like bottle rockets escaping
from Earth's gravitational pull
and they never make it, they
just explode, sparkle, fizzle
against a purple back drop
then fade
into
ash.
That's the sound
the letter makes
when it finally
speaks.
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