I'm Peculiar
I don't know where I'm going.
One eye looks at you and another
looks somewhere else. I'm peculiar.
My hair is my arms. Across the park
I need a new body. You think
you're teaching me something but
I already know. I always knew it.
You are like a bank, giving credit
and demanding repayment. Who can
love a bank? Can one bank love
another? I want them to stop saying
no.
One eye looks at you and another
looks somewhere else. I'm peculiar.
My hair is my arms. Across the park
I need a new body. You think
you're teaching me something but
I already know. I always knew it.
You are like a bank, giving credit
and demanding repayment. Who can
love a bank? Can one bank love
another? I want them to stop saying
no.
Robot in a Maze
The robot was in a maze. How do I get out, monotoned the robot. How do I want to get out. How do I decide what to want. This maze is too hard. This music is too loud. This space is too orange. I am just a robot. I only have one feeling and that is the feeling of being a robot.
Jessy Randall's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Coconut, Court Green, Explosive Magazine, The Hat, My Name is Mud, No Tell Motel, and Shampoo Poetry. Her collection A Day in Boyland (Ghost Road Press, 2007) was a finalist for the Colorado Book Award. Her website is http://personalwebs.coloradocollege.edu/~jrandall.
In 1998, she suddenly missed a friend she hadn't been in contact with for four years. Jessy wrote her a letter. The day after she sent it, Jessy received a letter from her. The letters crossed in the mail. Now they email and talk regularly and visit each other at least once a year.
In 1998, she suddenly missed a friend she hadn't been in contact with for four years. Jessy wrote her a letter. The day after she sent it, Jessy received a letter from her. The letters crossed in the mail. Now they email and talk regularly and visit each other at least once a year.