God Made Noses to be Picked, Otherwise He Would Have Made Fingers Fatter or Nostrils Smaller

poetry

Beside the stroller,
Petting zoo’s spectacles temporarily forgotten;
Wheat-brown palms find their destination;
Protuberant pupils slant in concentration;
Tongue set between taut lips.

No miner’s tools—no light necessary;
Digging deep with precision—cache in the offing;
Explores, pinpoints, delivers.

Bashful mirth—victory coo; a toddler’s smile;
He extends a stout fingertip, smothered moist, green algae;
Offering exhibition of his treasure, nonpareil.

disgusting things

poetry

pop up in the strangest places,
like on my key ring
in the form of a rewards card
with lamination receding
from every corner,
opening the way
for putrid, green filth
to work towards the center;
and it might be mold,
or it might be green ear wax;
it really looks like boogers,
and kind of like rancid baby poop,
and it’s just disgusting.

and all the while,
that has been in my oblivious pocket.