I heard about this Whitman Award, and immediately this Monster’s interest is piqued. You may credit said organization for the unadulterated spread of brilliance now to be loosed upon you, dear Polyform Reader. Expect Random, Unprovoked Poems (RUP) on a quasi-regular basis. Emergency exits are located two to the front, two to the sides and two to the back. Should the cabin lose pressure for any reason, oxygen masks will deploy from your overhead console. Do not assist other passengers until you have properly secured your own mask. Do not be alarmed if the bag does not fully inflate. In the unlikely event of a water landing, your seat cushion will act as a floatation device.
Whitman Poem #1. "Crushed"
I have accepted my longing for you.
It’s comforting to me,
To live with a fading memory of
I might interpret
as a beckoning smile of yours,
the merest shred
of an exchange
that only barely qualifies as a conversation,
words like pennies in the dirt, that’s all.
This is enough
for me to paint your lips
across the canvas of the best hotel sex ever
imagined as a memory relived
in the crush of a pink cadillac’s
crushed velvet seats
Those pennies in the dirt
are the seeds of a garden so lush
that I don’t have to know its fragrance
to remember it
It comforts me
so much that it aches.