At this point, I believe these two poems will begin and end the Chapbook “There is no I in Poetry” that I am currently working on.
Discomfort
By Chuck Howe
Being asked if you American when overseas
An itchy sweater
with no shirt underneath
A homeless man
Who gets right up close
In a wide open space
An acquaintance
who reveals far too much
about a mutual friend
who is a better person than you both
Really bad artwork
or poetry
done by a close friend
who is very proud of it
and wants your opinion
Being trapped
in an elevator
with two strangers
who are obviously fighting
but have been silent
since you got on
Watching an elderly person
Sitting all alone
In a crowded diner
Slowly dipping their spoon
Into the bowl of plain looking soup
Blowing on the spoon to cool it off
And repeating until all of the soup
Has been finished
Going to your favorite restaurant
with a new friend or associate
getting your favorite waiter
ordering your favorite food
When your associate starts
insulting the waiter
the restaurant and the food
When the log of shit
Breaks through the anal sphincter
And you are still a few blocks
From a friendly bathroom
On a crowded street
And a stranger notices
You know her name
You slept with her once, long ago
You are both with new people
Introductions are made
Before you both remember that night
Running into that guy
You haven’t seen since school
That you used to party with
And he can’t wait to get away
Playing God
In the chapel
At the Hospital
That taste in your mouth
After keeping the vomit down
Life
Comforting Thoughts
by Chuck Howe
The people who are resonsible for your drinking water
Gave the Native Americans small pox infested blankets
Half the devices in your home are made by companies
That have bowed down to the US government time and time again
Not afraid to sell out their customers
For the promise of a tax break
The people responsible for prepaing you for the real world
Told you that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were real
In the Bible, the great glorious and merciful God fucks with and devastates his most devout follower just for kicks
Your tax dollars pay the salary
Of the IRS agent
Who is responsible for figuring out
How much you owe in taxes
The sun is only in the sky
Because some magical being
Who likes to fuck with his most devout followers
Said “Let there be light”
That mother fucker is holding you hostage
Demanding your love
Like a kid who says that you
Can’t play with his toys unless
You tell everyone that he is your
New best friend