A Tuesday Night Shift Haul

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, Throwback Thursday, writing

Working until 2 A.M.

Mopping a blood stained

Potato peeled floor.


To supplement my basement

Kitchen, I’m pinchin’:


3/8th’s of a plastic bear shaped bottle of honey.

I have the tea.

I have the coffee.

I have a tea bag that looks like metal tongs.

Made of bulbous, Iron-mesh bongs.


Tongue Rust

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, writing


My dreams were absurd, scrambled last night, I know.

Can’t seem to recall any coherent flow-

Or any type of image worth review.

When I awoke, so vivid I could taste it.

Sober reality focused and it was gone.

A flicker across the retina of my mind’s eye.

Try to fire neurons in other hemispheres,

Try to recall that little detail-

A detail you might be creating

Or mixing from other flickers.

Like this poem, excavated from my skull.