—Poetry by Caleb Delos-Santos, Carbondale, IL
—Public Domain Photos are in reference to
—Public Domain Photos are in reference to
Shelley's "Ozymandias"
A TRASHY BATHROOM TRAGEDY.
My bathroom’s navy garbage bin
restrains a lethal scene:
a toilet roll, pulled hair, dead skin:
three traces of my new routine.
My little bathroom’s brimming waste
contains my morning grind:
devoured pills, unused toothpaste:
two inverse clues that shoot my mind.
My bathroom trash reveals to me:
I’m filled with misery.
My bathroom’s navy garbage bin
restrains a lethal scene:
a toilet roll, pulled hair, dead skin:
three traces of my new routine.
My little bathroom’s brimming waste
contains my morning grind:
devoured pills, unused toothpaste:
two inverse clues that shoot my mind.
My bathroom trash reveals to me:
I’m filled with misery.
HELLO, FOOT.
Hello, foot.
It shakes in reply.
How’s my favorite floor guy?
It droops and basically sighs.
Not good, friend?
It wiggles again.
Well, do you need to rest?
It repeatedly pokes the carpet.
Oh, you need to play.
It flips like a rescued stray.
Well, my one true toe-dude,
I hate to give you dismay,
But movement is not the mood.
It lowers.
It knows what I will say.
We have bills to pay.
Hello, foot.
It shakes in reply.
How’s my favorite floor guy?
It droops and basically sighs.
Not good, friend?
It wiggles again.
Well, do you need to rest?
It repeatedly pokes the carpet.
Oh, you need to play.
It flips like a rescued stray.
Well, my one true toe-dude,
I hate to give you dismay,
But movement is not the mood.
It lowers.
It knows what I will say.
We have bills to pay.
THE STRANGER’S TEARS.
I listen to a silver fox
preach on my Savior’s feet
until I spot a tissue box
below an empty seat.
Was someone crying sitting there?
I find an open door
and scan each cushy lobby chair
beside the church bookstore.
I see iced tea and volunteers
but not the stranger’s tears.
I listen to a silver fox
preach on my Savior’s feet
until I spot a tissue box
below an empty seat.
Was someone crying sitting there?
I find an open door
and scan each cushy lobby chair
beside the church bookstore.
I see iced tea and volunteers
but not the stranger’s tears.
THOUGHTS ON THE BOYS.
It hurts my heart to watch
The Boys on Amazon.
When Butcher downs a scotch,
when Hughie pulls a con,
when extras’ bodies snap
when CGI guts spill,
my ankles twist and flap.
My fingers swim like krill.
I stand and take a lap,
like A-Train post a kill.
But, of course, in time,
my wife invades my side
with kisses, hugs, and zeal.
I listen to my bride:
Homelander isn’t real.
HOLLYWOOD.
A poster of a movie scene
bearhugs a dusty wall
inside a rusty claw machine
beside a silent mall.
This crinkling printed paper art
displays a rabbit’s face,
but one eye has been torn apart:
a cockroach showcase.
I think of Ozymandias
and some actor’s Prius.
A poster of a movie scene
bearhugs a dusty wall
inside a rusty claw machine
beside a silent mall.
This crinkling printed paper art
displays a rabbit’s face,
but one eye has been torn apart:
a cockroach showcase.
I think of Ozymandias
and some actor’s Prius.
Today's LittleNip:
OBEY THE DREAM.
—Caleb Delos-Santos
When wit has left my bed pressed lid,
my drifting eyes and brain
create a blissful theater kid
dressed like a candy cane.
They step-ball-change in sequined red
beneath white Christmas beams.
They whip their fabric-padded head
and scream, “pursue your dreams.”
This conjured child dies by day.
And yet I still obey.
_____________________
Newcomer Caleb Delos-Santos (he/him) graduated from Azusa Pacific University with an English and Acting Double Degree. He recently published his first two poetry books, A Poet’s Perspective and Once One Discovers Love. Caleb has also published fifty other poems and two nonfiction pieces with several magazines, including North Dakota Quarterly and Translate Iowa Project. While at APU, Caleb won the Esselstrom Writing Prize, earned an award for nonfiction writing, worked as an associate editor for West Wind Magazine, wrote devotionals for The reThink Group, and presented poetry at the Sigma Tau Delta Convention. Today, Caleb lives in Illinois with his wife, where he has just started graduate school and dreams of a successful writing career. Welcome to the Kitchen, Caleb, and don’t be a stranger!
______________________
—Medusa
When wit has left my bed pressed lid,
my drifting eyes and brain
create a blissful theater kid
dressed like a candy cane.
They step-ball-change in sequined red
beneath white Christmas beams.
They whip their fabric-padded head
and scream, “pursue your dreams.”
This conjured child dies by day.
And yet I still obey.
_____________________
Newcomer Caleb Delos-Santos (he/him) graduated from Azusa Pacific University with an English and Acting Double Degree. He recently published his first two poetry books, A Poet’s Perspective and Once One Discovers Love. Caleb has also published fifty other poems and two nonfiction pieces with several magazines, including North Dakota Quarterly and Translate Iowa Project. While at APU, Caleb won the Esselstrom Writing Prize, earned an award for nonfiction writing, worked as an associate editor for West Wind Magazine, wrote devotionals for The reThink Group, and presented poetry at the Sigma Tau Delta Convention. Today, Caleb lives in Illinois with his wife, where he has just started graduate school and dreams of a successful writing career. Welcome to the Kitchen, Caleb, and don’t be a stranger!
______________________
—Medusa
Caleb Delos-Santos
A reminder that
Modesto-Stanislaus Poetry Center
celebrates its tenth anniversary
this afternoon with a reading by
Cal. Poet Laureate Lee Herrick.
For info about this and other
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four posts by scrolling down
under today’s post; or find previous poets by
typing the name into the little beige box
at the top left-hand side of today’s post; or
go to Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
and find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
For info about this and other
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four posts by scrolling down
under today’s post; or find previous poets by
typing the name into the little beige box
at the top left-hand side of today’s post; or
go to Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
and find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
(A cookie from the Kitchen for today):
red bandanna,
black eyepatch—
woodpecker’s pirating
sugar-water from
the hummer-feeder
