3 Poems by Glen Armstrong [Poetry]

To Those Who Won’t Be Going

To invite you anywhere is to invite Carrie to the high school prom, but to leave you behind seems equally cruel.

The dust from the sidewalk twirls about in eddies. 

Ask your parents about Red Ball Jets and PF Flyers.

Ask your older sister about crying under the giant horse at P.F. Changs. 

I agree with your guidance counselor, at least in principle, that writing The Mars Volta fan fiction is a misuse of your talents.

It’s not uncommon to feel simultaneously gilded and gelded. 

Canvas shoes on a brisk autumn day are an underrated pleasure when worn without socks.

Chinese food signifies a celebration when eaten by those who have never been to China.

 

Among the Forgetters #68

In this dark room with no windows,

facial expressions 

 

are meaningless.

In this meaningless room

with windows,

 

the light

 

of a television

dominates

 

until sunrise. 

At that point we all live in a yellow

subhuman 

 

(superhuman) glow.

I only see sightless fish

 

in photographs,

and they only make a lasting impression

when I see the world 

 

through my skin,

when I begin to turn inward.

The idea

 

of thirty days and thirty nights

gives way to the rhythm

 

of hunger and contentment.

 

World’s Fair #7

Individuals may seem strange

 

Black eyes 

And black eyebrows

 

White hair

And two fingers

 

Respect in the form of a funnel

 

Horses and should

Men and women

 

The end of all babies’ faces

And the beginning

 

Of industry / of large flat tails / of diplomatic

Missions to the near

 

Licking the heart’s gravy

From a shirtsleeve 

 

Easily seen to be alien / wild 

Things reset to walk 

 

With never 

Individuals may count holes

On their fingers 

 

With an almost missionary

Bent

 

And miniature golf

 

And sugar spun

 

And gunfire off in the distance.

 

 

By Glen Armstrong

  • Glen Armstrong edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has two new chapbooks: Simpler Times and Staring Down Miracles.

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