The Uncomputable
Poet John Paul Davis reads his own work, one at a time.
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Reading the feed…
Poet John Paul Davis reads his own work, one at a time.
Reading the feed…
I've been a paper boy, a short order cook, a line cook, a waiter, an event manager, a roller rink deejay, a stablehand, a substitute teacher, a college professor, a bike messenger, a grocery bagger, a caterer, a devliery driver, a warehouse manager, a journalist, a web developer and an engineering manager.
What is the brightness?
A poem about enshittification, written before I'd read Cory Doctorow's essay and knew that's what it is called.
He's not a tame lion.
Do you want to be healed?
An ode to the voice of the lead singer for Idles.
Maybe it was the smile of a stranger across a crowded city bus.
Even certain lies are prayers.
“May we look upon our treasure, the furniture of our houses, and our garments, and try to discover whether the seeds of war have nourishment in these our possessions." - John Woolman
Most days become feast days
The sublet also had a tuberculosis window. Look it up!
The Devil would like to talk to you about his bitcoin, Devilcoin.
The tumble of ordinary, everyday grace
It happens to everyone.
Not all infinities are the same size
This poem came out of a challenge I gave myself to tell a story backwards.
The good smells, & the singing
Beauty, and joy, after the inconvenience and crash, or maybe, because of them
Happy Earth Day
This meeting could have been an email; this email could have been a thing we just never talked about at all.
I love this poem so much because of what a wild ride it is; I get done reading it with the feeling of "what just happened?" which is a delightful feeling to get from a poem.
The new glasses give me a headache
There's also the coffee mug with legs my roommate in college, John Murphy, made me.
Perhaps the dream is real, and I'm a rabbit who dreamed of being human.
You can just open your hand & let it fall.
