I’m bored
a am bored I don’t want to be here I wonder if my professor thinks I’m taking notes I can’t wait to drive home the drive will be nice in the dark it’s relaxing amidst the huge motor vehicles careening towards each other at speeds that can easily kill but don’t think about how one […]
Must keep to schedule
cannot fall behinddon’t let your bodyor your desiresstop youor even slow you downwe have a curriculumestablished bysomeone or some peoplethat tell usthey have our best interests in mind
I probably should start reading
some of these poems assigned for this class so that I could write something somewhat constructive during these free-write sessions rather than scribbling away meaninglessly and uselessly. I wonder if my professor ever sees me writing so quickly and intently and gets excited or hopeful that I’m making some sort of insight. Sorry. Not sorry.
not a pendulum
unsteady at bestinconsistency the only constantI’ll try to be your foothold,though I don’t know what I’ll hold on toone second I’m all yoursthe next I’m lost and alone
This line does not end here
I’d like to go
somewhere elsesomewhere far awayI want to learn a new languageI want to play soccer againI want to write a better poem than this
Cannot bring my pen to the page
“Free-Write: Formulate a theory as to why “The seasons” was so popular, given what we know about 18th century England.
This is hard for me to do, seeing as how I neglected—chose to neglect—reading this poem. Things I decided to do instead of reading “The Seasons”: Drive home, make peppered tofu with peppers and onions, eat said tofu, watch The Master of Disguise, have sex, sleep, go to work, drive my friend to work, do […]
Pen wanders to the page
Mind wonders about this day in ageSilly rhymesTo pass the timeTo fill linesSitting on my assIn this purgatorial class
Waste of time
Waste of inkWaste of paperWaste of think
