Odd Direction

Forlorn foghorns frame my fantasies:

Crying out crudely, maxing capacities.

Egalitarian, cool contrarian,

Lapping up locutions like a lean librarian.

Poetic prodigy too prominent to skip.

Tip-toe, tongue-tied, trying not to trip.

Turbulence testing me, teeter off the top line.

Better balance backtracks, be there in the byline.

Undiminished, frantically unfinished.

Puking pinnacle poems- appears that I’m the thinnest.

Masterpieces: marginless. My magnum opus.

Ate these lethal lyrics like the plague of locusts.

Blank check business, bad-and-badder bourgeois.

Crafting complex jackpots, call me Jigsaw.

About the Author

Allison Hendershot revisited several poems from her time at UArts and edited them to fit her current style. In doing so, she realized how much she's grown as an artist and hopes Quiddity readers enjoy what she's written!