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lespoon's profile
AGE:
32
LOC: Cincinnati, OH
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: January 31
LOC: Cincinnati, OH
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: January 31
Hailing like a Spring storm…from Cincinnati, OH, I am a special ed. teacher. I am also a poet. I graduated from Bowling Green with a B.F.A. in creative writing, and repeat…am a special ed. teacher. Go figure. I also love music; mates of state, fugazi, the black keys, ect…as well as spoon, where I derive my “handle” lespoon. I have published a few poems, and am currently finishing a book on working with the behaviorally challenged youth of Cincinnati. As with most of us, when I die, all of my delicate works of poetry will be collected and published, with the proceeds benifiting all my kin. I hope. Good to be on here though, write me at cutshappening@gmail.com. And…visit my blog at cutshappening.blogspot.com
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This Apparatus Must Be Earthed He started bleeding around seven o’clock, it slowed down some then eventually it stopped. He died well before the blood ran out. His parents cried. He was buried. The wife he had married re-married and finally got to have children. They buried him too soon; they should have found out who killed him first. “You fuckin’ faggot,” Harvey mouths from the end of the bar. Your skin is much darker than your beer, and in here that is your first s...
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no one likes math at night be it counting sheep or hours. fall asleep now and you'll get five now... four now... three 5:30, 5:30, 5:30 must wake up at 5:30. regardless of when I fall asleep
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sleep count sheep pray and wake with the witching hour. Hours upon hours. break a sweat trying. something teacher said lurks inside your head under the bridges quietly
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Oh Elvis, face down on Graceland’s velvet bathroom, your tomb in the back- yard. Pork chop lard, leather cape that draped your obese body, Vegas gaudy rhinestone eagles on your regal back, gone. Purple faced, fuzzy sideburns, bellbottom slacks- hell’s wax museum must be beautiful. Crust on your lips which made Satan’s pitch-fork twirl like a girl’s skirt. Sang gospel too. So many wish to be you. Maybe you wish the same thing too.
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Shadows on Open Doorways This is a school which hears the creaking of the stairs beneath itself where luck and animosity run side by side where what is not said is said by boys who look up with frightened eyes there are days when the sky isn’t so crowded with airplanes and students don’t ask why they’re falling at school we cover up our fears and faces when we pull the shades like shadows on open doorways.
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Reviews
I enjoyed the sounds in the poems and the short line breaks (my favorite kind). I thought you could have played with this a bit more, maybe using punctuation to help chop it up more (pardon the pun) and create even more sound. At times it did feel disjointed, like the lines and sounds were thrown in too random. But for the topic at hand, you did a great job of matching lines, sounds and visuals with what you were talking about. One gem of a line was "pinking my tp" just hit me as something I'...
A great stream of voice here. The poem had a real taste and smell and sound to it that brought out meaning for me. I saw my father at times and myself at others. I feel as though I have been in this poem before myself. I did not see how the form of the poem (four line stanzas) were appropriate for the content and raw emotion of the poem. I wanted something with more chop...less structure. But I very much enjoyed reading about the underminer. I think this may have a great number of meanings fo...
The poem had a great pace to it through your use of "In this..." "In that..." and I really enjoyed the "save us," "save me." I did think that for a poem concerning rain, it should have more play with sounds in it. More assonance, more internal rhyme.
50.0% Review Quality (2 Votes)
Wow...that was great. Having twin daughters, both only three years old now, I can only hope I get to this point of watching them wed. Wonderful writing here. Had to have been their best wedding present.
What a great close. I really think I saw the patience of the poem. It built itself very well. The sounds at the end were great; the "e" sounds. I thought the second stanza was the best...the first seemed a little unconnceted to the moon metaphors in the closing. I did not feel the "naked touch of breath and fingertips" in the opening stanza was as powerfull. The poem did do an excellent job of taking a reader from start to finish with a story and visuals throughout. A great piece..9/10 at least.
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