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12 M. Lynch

Untitled Haiku (Yeah)

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

This Is Just To Say I have come to this conference where all you reporters are and you were probably expecting me to answer your questions but I’m just here so I won’t get fined

Thank You for Asking About My Stomach: Variations of a Theme I must extend my sincerest gratitude for your persistent concern with the state of my alimentary canal.

Truth be told, I appreciate your perpetual attention to the detailed inner workings of my digestive system and its accompanying parts.

If only I could express the full extent of my indebtedness to you for your inquiries into the precise nature and functioning of my abdominal goings-on.

I’m touched that my gut has captured your attention.

The Elusive Beast Like a bird, like a seed, it flits from person to person. But mostly to me, because I’m all about that action.

Like a sea, like a breeze, it changes from moment to moment. But mostly for me, because I’m all about that action.

So fervently we mere humans try to change the weather. So fervently we seek that which by nature escapes our grasp.

Because in the end, if I’m being honest, you don’t feel Beast Mode—it feels you.

Tasting the Rainbow Roses are red, Violets are blue. Skittles are red, And also blue.

Yellow too, Purple and orange. Just now realizing, Nothing rhymes with orange.

Skittles are delicious And they make me cackle. But how dare they change the green flavor From lime to green apple.

One Yard Sorrow I was expecting the ball— I was expecting so many things, but I wasn’t expecting this sorrow.

This deep, interminable one yard sorrow.

Shout-Out Shout-out to my real Africans, Shout-out to my teammates, Shout-out to Skittles, to Gatorade, To cat videos and touchdowns. Shout-out to shout-outs, To everyone in the world, Except reporters.

Definition Best Ever Amazing Sports Thing

Made Of Death-defying Energy

Countdown Y’all got two more minutes to look at me: 2 1 Bye.

Turkey Some would say it’s a coincidence that Turkey is next to Hungary. But not me, no siree, not me.

I believe there is a reason for everything that happens. There is a reason no one passed the ball

to me, and a reason we are now here, in Turkey. But whatever, oh whatever, could that reason be?

21st-Century Bartleby They say I’m reticent, disrespectful, a bit of a dick, even.

But I prefer to think of myself as a Bartleby, a verbal squatter

in a wasteland of cameras and microphones just trying to get by.

So let me just say this: thank you, thank you,

thank you, thank you for asking. I appreciate it.

Shameless Self-Promotion


Poems by M. Lynch

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