I'm such a huge nerd, that I decided to write a poem about the Cursive show we saw in Omaha by mimicking the rhythm/syllabication of a Cursive song... and then named the poem after that song. I call it... a Kasher-elle.

In the Now


I think there’s blood in my mouth
It tastes like rust and I need

Another Pabst Blue Ribbon
In a can warm with my sweat

A hoodie slide off my shoul-
Der pumping arms in the air

As a man—one hand on the
Keyboard, one on the trumpet

Keeps circus time with Tim K
Barking anti-religious

Rhetoric into the mic—

Rise up!
Rise up!

Dance and shout and fall and hair
Sticks to my face my make-up

Smeared with hot guitar solos
Drums knocking against my chest

Hear music in the bathroom
It was snowing when we left