Nate Logan

Thrilled to have two poems in the first print issue of bethh!

A little dust has settled on my coat sleeve.

The marching band practices in the rain.

Plato said no poets in the republic, but nothing about the moon. Big mistake. The only geographic marvels to name are craters larger than the largest football stadiums in Europe and those are saved for novelists. Long shadows overlapping in our century. Make due with the emojis we have. In the United States, we've been trying to go to lunch together for five weeks. Our hair is greasy - have you even been outside lately? I don't know how it happened. I wish I didn't know how it happened. I regret what I said in Texas, but I'm not the only one. Our idea of a good time is watching true crime and crossing our arms in disapproval. "How to mount steer horns on a golf cart" was later found in his search history, which if we squinted, we could actually see it.

An unfamiliar highway is the route to the edge of Minnesota. You're already there. The wind is brisk, from further north. I need a jacket and don't know a damn thing.

Honored to be part of Ben's Sunday Poem & Prompt Series!

I sure hope not.

John Ashbery.

My only plan is sleeping in.

A child coughs during the poetry reading.

This is as sincere as I get and even then.

This is not a comment on its quality or my affection for you, but you already knew that.

Grateful to have a poem published earlier this week in Some Words!

One search inquiry included the phrase, "axe throwing near me."

You asked me if I knew the poem "Having 'Having a Coke with You' with You" and I said yes I've read it but it's been years. Then we shared a hot dog.

You wake up and carry the facts on the escalator. It's a tambourine and everyone is a little sad. We're hip to the new destroyer. Maybe "destroyer" isn't the right word. I know it's not. You knew my weakness from across the room. The salad fork is a poem.