Poetic Hell

I see what in tarnation,
why do I see a nation covered in tar?

computer monitors should be taken
from the business room and
put out in the hallway

six is afraid of seven because
numbers aren't sentient and
nobody remembers Dwight Schrute
memes anymore

and, where is this going?

where should this end up?

where is the easternmost point
in the grand old USA?

nowhere near Magadan, supposedly...

closer to Diomedes maybe?

the Islands, possibly

Chuck Norris did something
to them back in 1973,
something that can't be
retold in polite company

and so the skunk funk
reaches slam dunk on
the grand funk
and we meet the drunk monk
with the lunk on his head
and the lump in his throat

call me Gregory, his tankard says

boot and rally
and then run headfirst
into a brick wall at full speed

and you fall into a time warp
and find yourself at the nadir
of the Indian Ocean

maybe where the wreckage
of MH370 is

and that's where we are at now,
back at the place where the
weirdness commenced

welcome to poetic hell

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

How you fill your poetic hell with glimpses across time and space it seems! I love the mentions that connect us emotionally to history and to artistry, and that give us platforms we can stand on even though we all live so far apart. Our thoughts keep us close.