The marriage of today’s
busy professional
with tomorrow’s oblivion.

A Veritable Waste of Space

Veritible’s a word of minor weight,
mere filler culled to modify the void.
Its meaning tacks to hurry-up-and-wait
–all empty suit, adjectively deployed.
This now concludes my veritable screed
that heaped nonentitude on absent need.

————

In a prior life Norm suspects he was a metronome. In the current one, he
feels life is trying to beat it out of him. Undeterred he pops up in
venues renowned for festival-style seating, places like Bright Lights Film
Journal, iTulip, The Western Muslim and the Handi-Mart at the corner of
Erstwhile and Vine. Though he’s been examined by some of the best doctors
pro bono humor can buy, he still finds it regrettable that humor rhymes
with tumor and laugh rhymes with staph. Fortunately penicillin rhymes with
Amy Dillon. The rash should clear up within a week and her circle of
acquanitances have all been notified.

Larger than Earth can encompass
Your beauty holds no bounds.
No, not large like a Double Cheeseburger.
I’m talking spacy, darling.

Hair blonde like the gaseous swirls that
Remind me of a half eaten Milky Way Bar.
An extraterrestrial love we have,
Not even your opaque clouds can diminish my
fervor for Venusian beauty.
Earth can’t take the competition,
You’re on a planet of your own.

————

Katherine McIntyre is a student, balancing work and school while trying to write as much poetry as possible. She has had work featured in magazines like Cause and Effect and Daedalus.

Yawning with his eyes as I

Adorn the night with slurred syllables and my

Noxious black smoke that he says smells like Christmas trees burning.

]]> http://www.defenestrationmag.net/2007/12/%e2%80%9cryan%e2%80%9d-by-erin-bruno/feed/ 0 http://www.defenestrationmag.net/2007/12/%e2%80%9croadkill-poem%e2%80%9d-by-chris-major/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=%25e2%2580%259croadkill-poem%25e2%2580%259d-by-chris-major http://www.defenestrationmag.net/2007/12/%e2%80%9croadkill-poem%e2%80%9d-by-chris-major/#comments Thu, 20 Dec 2007 05:20:07 +0000 Defenestration http://www.defenestrationmag.net/?p=672 Roadkill Poem

By Chris Major

———–

Chris Major doesn’t want you to know anything about him because his bones are made of secrets and his muscles are made of enigmas and his skin is made out of interlocking puzzle pieces that sweat. He wants you to go here: http://whyvandalism.com/