New Words, Better Than Mine

I've just discovered a new poet, which is something you should do from time to time.

Your brain on poetry. (Note: Still mostly dirt.)

His name is Denver Butson. Here's an interview with him. He's writing really good poetry right now, which is a nice change from reading poems written a long time ago by people who were dead before you were born.

He's on Twitter and Facebook. That seems ironic, but maybe he just wants to make a living and get his name out there, irony be damned. I can relate to the feeling that not everything has to be ironic, dammit.

Here's one of Denver Butson's poems. I'm giving the complete legal attribution, and I mean no infringement or disrespect by reproducing his poem here illegally, guns blazing, and all that. Chances are he'll never see it here, but if he does...hi. I like your poems a lot.

I'm going to read some more of them. You should, too.

*****

What She Was Wearing

by Denver Butson

this is my suicide dress
she told him
I only wear it on days
when I'm afraid
I might kill myself
if I don't wear it

you've been wearing it
every day since we methe said

and these are my arson gloves

so you don't set fire to something?
he asked

exactly

and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault and battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots

I'd like to undress you he said
but would that make me an accomplice?

and today she said I'm wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don't get any ideas

and she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door

"What She Was Wearing" by Denver Butson from Illegible Address. © Luquer Street Press, 2004.