We can solve mysteries, all
we have to do is nothing. The part
where it gets colder—that's
like every part. On my list
of places to do something
unforgivable the corn maze
is up there. Putting black paper
over all the lights is a measure
against bleakness. You have
to realize when I talk about
sweeping motions I mean ripping
my fingers off. You can tell the world
to go to bed and the world might obey,
you can point in any direction and I'll go
but I hate where that line ends.
Poem's Score: -0.4
Trey Jordan Harris lives in Missouri. Other recent poems appear or are forthcoming in Sixth Finch and DIAGRAM, and as a broadside from Thrush Press.
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.