by MARK SIMPSON
why are you standing
on your head today, coins, keys, a wadded
Kleenex falling from your pockets, you
who once had so much promise?
Once you were a canvas waiting
for pencil smear.
Look what Dali did for you!
You were useful then.
You had a grin and shuffle.
We filled you in. We signed our names.
From Issue 7
MARK SIMPSON lives on Whidbey Island, Washington. He farms 12 acres of forest, fruit, and vegetables and has a Ph.D. from Purdue University, where he studied rhetoric and writing. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Sleet (Pushcart Prize nominee), Broad River Review (Rash Award Finalist), Columbia Journal (Online), Third Wednesday, Clackamas Literary Review, and Cold Mountain Review. He is the author of the chapbook Fat Chance (Finishing Line Press).