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“Toilet Paper” A Poem by Andrew Dion

Standing canopy of heads to walk on.

I come from one thing to the next,

wish I could live to a perceived capacity.


This tall grass is imported from Asia.

I could push you in

or kiss you through.


This is an orange explosion,

my expulsion of a cigarette butt off a brick wall.

High up on a balcony,

watching milliseconds of embers expire.


How groovy. It’s all temporal. Abysmal.


Nearly scraped my scalp off climbing back inside.

People, holding stems of a good time wasted, are bothersome.

I’ll go

in here, just to wash my face.

There is no toilet paper,

but there sits more on the table

and somewhere else.


This can is empty, sadly,

but there are more in the refrigerator and somewhere else.


Andrew is a sophomore at Emmanuel. He can be reached at and via Twitter @andrew_ddion

Posted by on March 29, 2015. Filed under The Week's End. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.