Poetry

December 15, 2011      

Four Poems by Parker Tettleton

There Are No Numbers

I’m today, part of what’s passing. I ask booths who they are anti-meridian. I’ve met people who do not facilitate pillows. I am not out of first person sentences. Now as far as I know: don’t.

I Am Close To Myself More

Everything is sentimental marries a trash can, puts beers emptied in, sits on a sofa someone else paid several someone elses for, spellchecks hearts, looks up looking at anything touching something reminding, remembered, as now as gone.

Fast Floor

I tremor The microwave’s awful, perpetuate refrigerators I can’t dial for numbers. Elevator sex twines We’re seeing each other angled. The middle of a sentence is not.

I’ve Driving

Let’s sit down to sex. Share three sides, belly ten dollars. I’m on the square less than once a future room. You kiss the way I knew my mouth.

Parker Tettleton

About the author:

Parker Tettleton’s work is featured in &/or forthcoming from Gargoyle, NAP, The Catalonian Review, Spittoon, & PANK, among others. His chapbook SAME OPPOSITE is available from Thunderclap! Press. More or less is here.

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