This poem was written after a particularly nice class discussion in one of my poetry classes, where we discussed the significance of simplicity in amateur poetry. The supposed 'Mark of the Amateur' is the believe that every poem must be epic, must have a deep brooding under-meaning. So I wrote about the desk I was sitting in that class. This particular version is not the final revision but it was the one recently published in Indiana University of Pennsylvania's student run New Growth Arts Review. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did playing with it.
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Enjoyment Best Hide
In my old class upstairs
In my old desk chair
Left handed bastard with an ass-worn lap.
Right beneath is a finger net to hold my tired feet.
Pantera, Obama rules, I love beer.
Kelly is a slut, Fuck, an unreadable smudge.
To an unknown curio I glide my fingers
Gently caressing her back—
such Love
A man put into this desk, his sweat and blood.
Into ridges and valleys, cracked and waxed skin.
I come across an old taboo.
We chew gum, so sweet, cherry velvet.
Now a disgusting dried tumor.
It is still beautiful to me.
