Poetry

I’m working on writing a thousand poems. I started in April 2015.

Poem #750 – the magic of a convenience store after dark

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

food
lit by glowing fluorescence
a beacon among this gray outside

indifference
but stepping into this liminal space
the hope of junk is immense

buy
it’s like I’ve never seen beef jerky
or stuffed a cosmic brownie in my mouth

possibility
adult money in my pocket just burning to be spent
on a bag of Doritos that I shouldn’t get

greed
promises of a satisfyingly full stomach
and a gaudily glowing iPhone charging cable

overkill
deep under the spell until I get my change
what the hell did I just buy?

Poem #749 – purity

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

emptiness
the milk of my soul
meandering in smooth tornadoes
a chaotic and white peace
even that swirls down the drain
I am existing on nothing
a mounting joy
with every item’s absence
I am nothing.
but it feels good


“ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome
______________”

Poem #748

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the defective chameleon falls from his perch
everyday
without fail
he fails
yet he climbs all the way up
feet above the ground
camouflaged in the leaves
every inch he pulls himself up
each of those
is success
46 successes,
1 failure.
why did I mention that first?

Poem #747 – the in-between

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

spring is coming
and I want to be better
better than me
better than you
better than everyone
better than the best
I want to bake moist cupcakes
I want to squeeze into size 2 jeans
I want to have the internet like me
I want to write Great novels
I want it all
but there’s something curious
I have most of the skill
but
but I’m just not quite there
this one switch isn’t flipped
somewhere deep in the interface
one transistor was always defective
so I stand here
looking at spring
but not quite there

Poem #746 – marriage counseling

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

it smells of rotting things
fruit, once sweet
now propagating flies

get on the ground
crawl there

you must bark
you are not a woman

he doesn’t need to do this
he’s not embarrassed

the therapist and him watch
dignity vampires

let the maggots eat only the dead flesh
until just you exist

Poem #744

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

giant machines walked above us
but they weren’t our lords
we controlled them with tiny devices
determined to reach the stars

we thought we were big
until they fell on us

Poem #743 – a manageable river

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

they put her there,
built her concrete body
rolled asphalt into her crown
to hold back the water.

the water crawled with those slithering things:
manic mosquitos breeding disease in the still
depressed rocks displacing water at the bottom

rain for weeks

she digs her concrete fingers into the mountains
on either side

even those slime-covered rocks at the bottom
add weight

her body cracks imperceptibly
water seeps into those hair-thin lines

when the snow comes
ice expands her cracks

they put fish into the deep lake
that she holds back
the fish keep the mosquitos down

no more disease.

years of snow
more rocks have eroded from the nearby mountains
pushing against her crack-riddled concrete body

rain for weeks

the water breaks through her
first: in a spurt
next: an explosion

nothing in the years-dry riverbed survives

Poem #742

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the fat man has an eating disorder
late at night when no one else is awake
he takes a box of ice cream cones
a Dreyer’s slow-churned vanilla quart
he eats: 1, 2, 3
he pauses for a minute, he should stop
but the ice cream is going to melt
and he can’t keep his hands from moving
he eats: 4, 5, 6
sick and too full, he passes out

the next day: less than 1,000 calories
two weeks: less than 1,000 calories
he says,
“I can’t give myself an inch”
he’ll take a mile
8 lbs lost
he’s smiling and feeling proud
15 lbs lost
he’s finally in control

then, his legs move on their own
late at night for a week straight
the light of the refrigerator is ghostly on his skin
he pulls out an entire box of ice cream sandwiches
and takes them to his room
an entire pot of leftover spaghetti
a loaf of bread and package of Oscar Mayer bologna
he regrets immediately and passes out
-2 lbs lost

Poem #741 – to my future child

Video ~ ~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

we’re gonna eat green beans and gummy bears
splash in the watery mud after a rain
bundle up for a 20 hour drive to Alaska

I’m gonna tell you how electricity works
the reasons why a budget is necessary
the purpose of air bags and brakes

you’re gonna tell me why you like purple
about the ghost you saw in the middle of the night
how a kid in your class is always talking

we’re gonna giggle while we climb the tree in the yard
argue about the choice of your sock colors
scream as the roller coaster drops

I’m gonna learn how to be patient when you don’t understand
that children are much messier than I thought
why “skinny jeans are so last generation”

you’re gonna learn how to be patient when I don’t understand
when to speak up about what you need
that most things aren’t the end of the world

we’re gonna squeeze each other until someone shouts “uncle”
be equally terrified as you learn to drive
love each other