Chalk Poem

The long cool freedom
pure as a stick of chalk
powdering against the
edge of jealousy
hard and green, also cool
a tongue in your mouth
an equation in your mind
about where
purity goes
as it’s clapped against
a tree trunk,
the side of a building
leaving squares of dust,
only its traces.

—Caitlin Brady

The Lugubrious Game

Do you ever look at the work of your friends
purely in order to marvel
at its shortcomings: to spitefully wallow,
with sheer horror and disbelief,
in its shockingly abysmal incompetence,
and cheerfully reassure yourself
of its utterly irredeemable worthlessness?
If not, you are missing out
on one of life’s greatest pleasures.
So much more pleasurable than
looking at a friend’s work and finding
that it surpasses anything
you could ever hope to achieve.

—John Tottenham