When In Rome: Write a Poem (or 3)

July 30, 2011

It seems I’ve been on “hiatus”–which is really code for what an 8th-grade biology/physical education teacher somewhere would quippingly (also not a word) call “PROCRASTINATITUS”.  

“Suz, could you please use PROCRASTINATITUS in a sentence?”  

No problem.

Read in 8th-grade biology/P.E. teacher voice:

Myhr, where the heck is your assignment?  Looks like yer suffrin’ from a case ‘a Procrastinatitus this week…make sure it’s on my desk by the end of 5th period, k?  And do us all a favor and leave the fruit tights at home. Have you ever hear ‘a Levi’s? Since when are shrink-to-fits out ‘a style?  C’mon, now… (a few readers may remember from “back in the day” my amazing taste for interestingly*-printed nylon stockings)

 It’s true, and it will happen again (not the fruit tights, hopefully), the future hiatus-of-sorts, but now at least you know the unscientific, yet somehow valid and ready-made reason.  Hopefully this makes it easier for all 3 of you readers to cope. Dope?

And now, before I present to you 3 quickly-written, poorly-structured, non-poetic poems, I will also add one more obligatory self-effacing justification about the justification of this article–that is, on the right. And here it is:

“I felt like it, comrades…and it adds to the artsy-fartsy nature of the project.”

And like your 7th-grade Art teacher (the one who smelled of Sandlewood before you knew what sandlewood smelled like…the one who wore the wrap-skirt she found abandoned on the sawdust-covered asphalt of a Renaissance Faire) taught you when you had to make that awful clay pot in order to appreciate how easy it really is** to burn yourself on a kiln, a piece of equipment you will neither see nor use again in your natural life:

“As long as it  looks like art, it is.”


5-Dollar Bill

And then I picked you



Even though

There was a five-dollar bill

Lying there

Sandy Gum

It was over a year ago

By now

I went to the beach

Collected shells

Collected sand

Whether I wanted to

Or not.


My gum is crunching

Is crunchy

There is sand in my gum

A thing

I did



“Outen the Light”

 Lying here

Waiting for sleep,

The eye in my mind


My memory

Spies a that thing that

Hides the wires…

That thing for a light

A Light Plate

A Switch Plate

An Outlet Plate

It’s called.

This one

The one I see

The one that said

“Outen the Light”


The one

I never understood


*You remember this word, right?  You know, since you have read EVERY SINGLE post from All the Suz…no?  Ok, I will refresh your failing memory.  EVERY SINGLE use of the word “interesting” is Mountain-West (see also When In Rome: Smile and Say “Grazie”) code for “sucky”.  In other words, it ain’t a good sign if my mom tells you your Coconut Chutney tastes “interesting”.

**I have been jonesing to re-re-read The Catcher in the Rye lately, which is why, I think, I have taken such liberties with the italics function.

2 Responses to “When In Rome: Write a Poem (or 3)”

  1. keenant Says:

    Like. Even as a New Yorker, I had that teacher. And also: no matter what they say, you would have smoked ’em in the rodeo last night…

  2. Emily N. Says:

    Even though you have “outened” the light in one of your poems, you have enlightened me with your poetic prowess. THanks for sharing! 🙂

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