Venn Diagram

Hold the line

Maintain separation.

I must hold strong.

Like a warped Venn diagram.

The outer circles smile and make nice.

The overlapping intersection is a mess.

Escaping Insanity

I have to write it down

because if I don’t write it down

the thoughts cylindrically go around and around in my head

and if there is no where for them to go

it turns into insanity.

But if I can catch one

and force it into this crude tool

them I am no longer insane,

I am a writer.

Psychopathic Passive Aggressive Notes to Myself

Two socks, neither are mine.

Your fridge approached me the other day. It was an unwelcome advance.

You conduct an abnormal amount of static electricity. I am quite tired of your electrical current.

Where did you put the key to that memory?

Fuck you brain for phantom pain!

I see that you have failed to follow instructions.

Looking for another state of consciousness again huh? Spin around and think about the taste of purple!

The fridge says hello!

Please do not buy any more journals. You are just provoking her.

You are my legacy.

You are my false god.

 

 

 

Madreseh مدرسه

A.Sadeghipour.Madreseh.JPG

Salem alehcon madreseh sharood shod
the white shal was never stifling.
familiar dust and the deep smell of roses.
little girls all in rows.
But how can my Baba see me?
How does he know I am his little girl?
The one in blue? The one with the rose?
Nikes! Nikes!
Over Here!
Man enja hastam!
Foreign tongues
speaking to a foreign ear,
the time has gone.
parent’s decision tattooed in my flesh.
Will my memories be a dancer?
Tingling bells with brilliant colors
A beautiful woman
Will she look like me?
Mom won’t stop crying on the plane.

Execute the Attack

Dormant and dead

timbered trembles

Horse hair meets

sun dried intestines

Twist the nipples

Tighten the restraints

Nuzzle close

placed in the crook

Hide meets Gut

Frog and Bridge

Kiss and Rip

the Rhythms.

 

Brawk-Brawk-Brawk

I write with a frog on my shoulder. No, it is not a metaphor. It is a Litoria caerulea. An a-sadeghipour-ernestoAustralian green tree frog commonly known as a dumpy tree frog. I went to the pet store to purchase crickets for Ernesto. The young girl at the cricket bin asked me what I was feeding. I told her that I was feeding an Australian green tree frog.

“A what?” she responded.

“An Australian green tree frog. A Litoria caerulea.”

Her furrowed brow and confused glazed eyes indicated to me that she had no idea what I was talking about even though the terrarium behind her was labeled in a green paint pen, “Australian Green Tree Frogs for Sale! A hearty friendly species! The Perfect Pet!”

“Well, what do they look like?” she asked.

“Well, they’re frogs that are green because they’re green tree frogs. Sometimes, my little guy turns blue depending on the temperature.”

My response was met with squinted eyes. It was as if by squinting her eyes the image would appear beneath her eyelids, “Yeah, don’t think I’ve ever seen one. I’ve seen brown frogs before. Are they called something else maybe?”

“They’re also called Dumpy tree frogs because they have large fat deposits on their head and back,” I explained.

“Oh,” she scoffed sinking back into her shoulders as if they would conform to her body and close in on her like a protective shell.

“Is everything okay?” Her turtle reaction was strange to me.

“You shouldn’t call them that,” she sneered attitude drooling out of her mouth.

“Call them what?”

Her chest puffed up like a proud feathered cock about to crow, “Dumpy. The word dumpy is offensive to the animal.”

I took the bag of crickets out of her hand and began cautiously walking backwards. I was taught to never turn my back on two kinds of people, the crazy and the stupid. I paid for my crickets, walked across the rain soaked parking lot, started my car and began laughing hysterically. I pulled into my gravel covered driveway and wiped the tears of hilarity off my cheeks. I fed Ernesto who delightfully gobbled up ten of the twelve crickets I had just purchased.

“I’m sorry to have offended you, Sir Ernesto,” I smiled as I picked up my little frog, placed him on my shoulder, and wrote this down.

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