There comes a point in every intern’s tenure in the English counseling office where they decide, for whatever reason, to post their own poetry for the blog. This week I figured it was finally time to throw my hat into the ring.

Shake the clovers from your eyes.

Today is a day for great celebration

for you are alive,

and who cares what that means?

Taste the honey, sickly saccharine,

dripping from your fingertips. Leave

an offering at the altar of Ginsberg

so that he might expedite your prayers

to the immortal Whitman. Leave a rose for

Emily on her front porch, ring the

doorbell and then run.  Watch from a distance as

the bees swarm and realize. Bottle the tears you find and trade them for a bent penny-whistle at a

swap meet. Trade up

up

up! Share your holiness with a neighbor,

give me a holy, Allen! Give it to me in the words on

the page, pry open my skull and spit them into the exposed me. Allow me

access into your holy of holies

and we will dance

like marionettes falling from our ties, clatter

together,

victors intertwined.

-Tim Caston