Jonathan Brown's Word Sauce


3 notes

Taking the ACT on the Chin

Fill in the bubble that indicates your value as a human being. 

Sleeping will not be tolerated.

Neither will swallowing.  All food must be spit out immediately.

In about twenty-four minutes that door will open

and someone from The State Department

will rip out all of your hearts and place them

in this secured and sealed teal-climate-controlled-cooler.

Your second most vital organ will be stored for transport.

You will be notified via subpoena as soon as a decision

is made regarding your heart’s whereabouts. 

You are a valued customer.  Take care of your callouses. 

None of us want to see you get hurt.  The nurse

will be with you in a moment to draw blood.

Are you allergic to any medications?

Pipe down.  You are not the only gerbil waiting

to take a turn on the wheel of misfortune.

Void where prohibited. 

Any unverified noises such as sneezing or breathing

will be considered a testing violation. 

Infractions such as laughter or outward expressions 

or extreme depression will be captured

on videotape and sent to The State Department

for analysis.  Mark a response for each question

even if you are uncertain about the answer.

A facsimile of your results will be sketched

by a composite artist unless you feel insulted

by this test, in which case, the dispute

will be settled by a groupthink consensus

in order to determine which target market

best suits your worldview.   

Filed under Poetry Jonathan Brown Creative Writing Taking the ACT Spilled Ink Rejects-Corner ACT

9 notes

I Find the Mathematics of Reincarnation Baffling

I ran into my first love the night

of my 21st birthday.  She said I ruined her life

and she never wanted to see me again

and it must have stuck because

I pretended I felt the same way

11 years later.

I find the mathematics of reincarnation baffling

It can’t be an even trade as in

one death equates to one life.   There has to be

a tremendous amount of souls inhabiting

one body.  I’m the caterpillar and the butterfly

and my great grandfather and Pancake,

our family dog who died when I was little.

In the middle of my family tree is an artichoke

heart wrapped in a hand written love letter

scribbled by a 19th century Polish woman

I’ve never met but will one day become

if I’m lucky enough to let go

of the stars in the marrow

colored sky below my eyes.

Filed under Poetry Creative Writing Jonathan Brown I find the mathematics of reincarnation baffling Spilled Ink Rejects-Corner

7 notes

Go On With Your Bad Self

Haven’t you ever loved someone so much you just wanted them locked up in a cage?  Me neither.  That’s crazy.  You’re a creeper, nosier than an anteater with a vacuum cleaner. 

I made the last move and now it’s your move.  You’re worse than fried chicken.  I hate that I love you.  

You make me want to break into a bank and hold up the place and take all the money and frame you for the robbery because you bother me and everybody else. 

Filed under Poetry Jonathan Brown Prose Poem Creative Writing Go On With Your Bad Self Rejects-Corner Spilled Ink