Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 07/24/19


Year of the Sea Monkey CLXXV

I see the pink flamingos.
I understand the threat.
I brush my teeth with helpless rage

that gets mistaken for apathy.
It’s a dick move
on someone’s part,

mine perhaps, but the world
gets replaced often
and incrementally.

I’ll miss my bus if I
don’t get moving.
There’s no time

to think about pink
flamingos or question
my dubious encounters.

I kiss my sweetheart’s cheek
before I’m elsewhere.
The radio is a strange mix

of old songs and new tariffs.
I see the green parrot.
I adjust for seasonality.

©Glen Armstrong all rights reserved


Glen Armstrong edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has two new chapbooks: Simpler Times and Staring Down Miracles. He spends part of his year teaching in a medium-security prison.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s