Selected by Dr. Dennis Phal
At a Boring Poetry Reading
by Norman Stock
They read the audience to death.
These poets use live ammunition, their words, to weaken us.
Are they trying to put us to sleep or are they trying to keep themselves up
by droning on and on? Instead of listening, all I’m doing is waiting for them to stop.
The applause will be like glass breaking, the glass they are enclosing us in
It is as if they tied their shoes in front of us just to show us they could tie their shoes in front of us!
O save me from this scatterbrain orderliness, this posture of beheading.
Will this reading never end? Will I have to listen forever
or can I find a chink in the wall of my own mind that I can crawl into, just to get
away from this disaster, this dying, this voicelessness?