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The path beyond my garden
cinderblock, asphalt, dirt
once meant to be green
dirt fields Kill the Man
one kid with football goal
keep off the grass signs
tackled by two-dozen kids

Reward privilege of trying
score winner reputation
defend your place by word

I, The Professor, called teachers
asking more for free

Stripes on dirt field
bone-crushing tackles
they cheered when others would
call me hyperbolic, but
I was so big

Derisive friends
crush emboldened love
I plagiarize, reconstruct my point
with jazz, funk, and soul

Her name was safe
thirty-five years ago
her fate foreign, I loved her
with whole heart
she blushed,
Judy Blume befuddled

Older brother, throwing
with crooked smirk
Cheshire Cat pretending
almost comfortable enough

Upended by something terrible.
***

Alright… that’s enough of that shit. Here’s an appropriate palette-cleanser:

I wrote this for NaPoWriMo Day 19 prompt, which is an erasure prompt, but I just gave up midway, as I absolutely despise making erasure poems. Writing erasure poems is literally my least favorite style. It makes me irrationally angry that the words don’t fit exactly the way I want them to. I don’t even know why I stuck at this for so long, but I’ve had enough. Let’s just pretend like this one didn’t happen, OK?

If you’re curious about the text I pulled this erasure poem from, just go to this essay.

I know I’m technically still a day behind (I’m not counting the previous haibun), but I gotta go get this bad taste out of my mouth. I’ll try to catch up tomorrow.

I’m so mad at this poem I wanna fight somebody.