Five Poems
Parker Tettleton
I want to walk in where I walk in & not think about me or you or anyone else we know—I want my recycling to be perfect.
I want to walk in where I walk in & not think about me or you or anyone else we know—I want my recycling to be perfect.
my angst is still young / and highly flammable / something interrupted / meant to be read out of order / one chord change to another
You halt the flow of traffic in a crosswalk to retrieve a fallen penny, / cheer your good fortune, and whisper: landmine.
I am trying to come out to my father / but all he wants to talk about / are the 1985 Chicago Bears
Before roosting in the city, starlings dive—
five thousand deep in flock. Like cells they follow the
law of localization. Bound by surroundings. Step into a
crowded elevator and take on
and a vague behind-the-eyes tired from reading about destruction until after midnight
Today I kiss her knuckles & we lumber home like mammoths.
Lyrical lines of color dripping down: a chemical skyline.
The only piece of advice I’ve got for anyone is to shout your precious name into the rain & wait for a response.
A garment can withstand swell if the body can withstand laceration
The president lands to a reception line & it’s all already campaigning again always. The president lands & I already took a shit this morning.
In this piece, the sculptor will sculpt herself sculpting.
Lying next to her, I wrote the last chapter of the Bible and surrounded our bed with Doritos.
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
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“Legs Get Led Astray is a scorching hot glitter box full of youthful despair and dark delight.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of WILD