The Call Center Dreams of O. Hunt

Telephones ringing like fireflies flashing —chaotically at the beginning of each work shift when you mount your cubical chair spinning it around coming up heads over tails Tones on Tail playing from cassette tape an old Walkman left by your time-stagnant predecessor Firefly phones flash in unison now Plug earbud into right ear and then slip headset microphone earpiece over left ear Switch on incoming calls an unfamiliar voice floods your brain Conversations piggy- back each other over each other into a chain of checkboxes checked into breaks out back coffee, talk, snacks and then you're peering back at yourself from restroom mirrors while coworkers come and go You lock in the darkest spot in your colorblind amber eyes myopia dissolves away away away Sand on the beach warms your bare toes Each one loving the warm cushion as dry turns to moist turns to wet and the little waves are lapping happy feet ankles calves Sun is the solution a forward thinker flanked by friends on a dreamy sun- day-to-day the work is gone Call center background crashing tele- phones calling no more away away away dissolving in salt- water @kshawnedgar

Sea of Never

It's poetry for the people. Because cats don't read much.

Rapture this Verse


http://kshawnedgar.wordpress.com/2011/05/03/sea-of-never/

K. Shawn Edgar
Carbon Noise Poetry
Needs You

Sea of Never

Poetry for the people, because cats don't read much.

Rapture this Verse


http://kshawnedgar.wordpress.com/2011/05/03/sea-of-never/

K. Shawn Edgar
Carbon Noise Poetry
Needs You
To Read
Daily

False Things & Paste Up Poetry

False friends, like false teeth, can be removed and tossed away, but you can never again feast on the same life. All is purée and liquid, moving indivisible down the gullet and out of time until you are no longer sure if they were false or the real thing.

Categories: Life & Times, Poetry

Rainbow Vision

Rainbow legging-clad stems, long as an early August afternoon, carry her lithely dancing through the heat of Tanasbourne.

Unencumbered by short skirt, no more than a thin veil fluttering around narrow hips and briefly clinging to smoothly pale thighs, my rainbow vision is the only sign of life in this greyed out crowd.

So I click my heels, not to return home, but to fly over the essential colors of light streaming as a beacon to the pot of gold at their end. 

Rainbow Vision

Rainbow legging-clad stems, long as an early August afternoon, carry her lithely dancing through the heat of Tanasbourne.

Unencumbered by her short skirt, no more than a thin veil fluttering around narrow hips and briefly clinging to smoothly pale thighs, my rainbow vision is the only sign of life in the greyed out crowd.

So I click my heels, not to return home, but to fly over the essential colors of light streaming as a beacon to the pot of gold at their end.