Mike Young

No, We Met



A girl raps shyly to herself

above her English muffin.


All you go around is remembering

how one commercial kicks in


with a four-minute harpsichord solo

or an old professor anxiously


declined the eggplant parm.

Uh, it’s from the nightshade


family—I’ll pass. Around you

gone. One day contains and one


day is the cranberry health mix:

full stop. Showers and stairwells.


Throwing away a Christmas present

once you hit the opposite coast.


I serve my guests toast instead

of tortilla chips and they’re


down with that. O to know what secret

nicknames people give you


at the gym. To walk with a hot light bulb

in your mouth, trying not to swallow


or bite down. I know how it sounds,

but it really does help to remember


how you do want

to feel. I didn’t know what a poem


was until I’d read a thousand poems

and forgotten I would say about


nine hundred and four.

Everybody Here Either

for BF




Please observe all means necessary

to keep us all safe


is what the building owner wanted us

to notice on the sheet.


Spoon around in the ancient grains.

Questions of personality


choices resolved by color

choices. Chewie roars whether


the joke is old or not.

Sadness isn’t something you can notice


away. My friend peeling the labels:

“I’m thirty-one, I thought I’d be way


different.” The thunderstorm plays

itself out, that’s what it wants, age-


ncy of assemblage, momentary nature

of the screaming underneath


all that quote unquote

dangerous hail.


MIKE YOUNG is the author of three books: We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough (Publishing Genius 2010, poems), Look! Look! Feathers (Word Riot Press 2010, stories), and Sprezzatura (Publishing Genius 2014, poems). He writes for HTMLGIANT, runs NOÖ Journal and Magic Helicopter Press, and lives in Northampton, MA. Find him online at http://mikeayoung.tumblr.com.