Thanks to Chris for allowing my poem in the ranks of Verbophobia. Quite the honor. In the interest of actually including poetry on my blog, here's the accepted poem, along with the period I forgot to include. Either he didn't notice it or thought it's lack of incluson gave me an edge I'd been lacking in prior work.


Why I'm Not Zen


In the throes of self-hypnosis
I try to converse with myself,
who deflects questions at first
by faking amnesia
before admitting
he doesn't feel like talking,
needs his breaks
as much as I do
when not attempting poems.

In my determinacy to tap
the world outside
during my cross-legged hush,
I'll open a window
to hear better,
but apply small bits of cotton
for some adhesion to the rules.

In the story with the tigers, the cliff
and the protrusive fruit,
I'd be chucking strawberries at their eyes,
as I'm already dying enough to know
that life is the ultimate comfort food.