When one lets mind wander through paths uncarved:
I wonder what Frodo is up to now?
Does he enjoy his literary rest.
Is Tupac in the Bahamas sipping
tropical libations, writing new verse.
Did Fatty Arbuckle do what they said?
I struggle with concepts like anapest.
Would my father have liked the new Star Trek?
There is a girl who sells kebabs I like.
My parents aren’t around to answer me.
The process of counting to eleven:
The work of winding down the sensual.
Will I ever understand a trochee?
Never, not me, never, not me, never, not me.
David Morck believes that poetry is serious business and should only be about nature or the moon. Requests to be quirky frighten him, and make him twitch and panic-eat donuts. He is a California native and recently earned his M.A. in Creative Writing from Cal State Northridge. His work has appeared in Pudding Magazine, The Northridge Review, and critical work on newpages(dot)com