By Corey Culbertson
I looked inside a book, and I saw nothing but shoals
Umbrage is dudgeon is resentment,
but I like the first word better.
It hints at the leaves that afford trees
and nose-shaped shadows that hang over tea.
Ethically speaking, truth lacks objective meaning,
but the concept is fun for beggars.
Lithe segments find spaces to call home,
but the deep pocket inside Man shows that
Over-wrought bridges drink whiskey—
spilling word-vomit and tallow on doors.
Vanilla ice-cream is a prank they pull on first-timers—
I didn’t use the spoon and instead stained my clothes.
I looked inside your soul and I found none,
but the letters that make up numbers labeled—
Resentment held over hunger ‘til man’s umbrage
turned into steady rage.
The masses cried,
Bio: Corey Culbertson has been at the State College of Florida since Fall of 2012, and plans to transfer to New College of Sarasota in the Fall of 2014. He is currently studying the fantastic in the arts and horror literature. He is active in SCF’s writing club, Swamp Scribes, and is a regular participant in SCF’s open mic events where he has won honors. He has an interest in experimental works, and plans to begin writing a novel in the spring. You can find him reading somewhere around sunny Sarasota where he’s probably contemplating the philosophical underpinnings of unnecessary non-sequiturs and the mystifying nature of word vomit.