We are writing poems of radical accessibility in your sister’s bedroom before she gets home from marching band practice. The dust brown of drought settles over us through the window like God’s own impotence. I know we’ve achieved something in the Lisa Frank notebook we stole and defaced. I love you like warm soda. Like how it’s got more fizz than cold soda. That’s how. You tell me I’m being obscure because I want power over the reader. I try to explain that I’m trying to make you understand the physicality of my mind with words but it’s impossible. Then your sister Ashleigh walks in and says, “What are you doing in here.” And we can’t talk about radical accessibility anymore.
Poem's Score: -0.3
Leif Haven lives in Oakland. His poems score between 3.85 and -.66 but there might be outliers that haven't been assessed yet.
JULY GENIUSFor July 2013, Everyday Genius is pleased to present poems that were rated below 0.4 on the "Poetry Assessor"—a tool that "is designed to determine whether a poem has the characteristics of a professional poem, or, alternatively, an amateur poem.
We publish the poems here, with their scores, not to confirm the Assessor's judgment, but to allow human readers to decide for themselves.