 C. Alexander is a small-town Southern born poet who now lives in New England. He has his MFA from Lindenwood University, and dabbles in print and spoken-word poetry. He has a spoken word EP called "Cosmic Aging" that you can find from all online music sources. He has been published in The Eunoia Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and The Inflectionist Review. “Figurative” A lazy allusion pulled a Cassius and killed himself on his birth- Day over a misunderstanding. A broken similie curved like a broken smile after a fist fight on a black top backed up to a rhyming train stop. An alliterative alligator ate an ambitious aardvark over an antiquated armistice involving air strikes and ambulances. Afterward the alligator articulated about a case of angina and ambivalence. Pow! Onomatopoeia is stupid. Even in comic books. And I’ve got an exhaustive amount of tricks, except how to make an impact with words. “Fight the Power” I bought my protest flag at urban outfitters, so you know it is high quality. I bought my Guy Fawkes mask from Amazon, only $9.95 plus tax! He was in that movie: V for Vendetta. It was made by Warner Bros. I think. Could you imagine if Guy Fawkes was a real historical figure? That would be pretty dope. I bought my Che Guevara t-shirt at this thrift store, no you wouldn’t know of it, only cost me $60 bucks, how thrifty! I think he was pretty hott. I have a thing for beards you know? I’ve been thinking about reading Thoreau, he went to jail once, isn’t that so cool? No, I’m not sure what for, I think I slept that day in class. "Ben and Vincent"1. B- I’m pretty sure you were an accident.
Accidentally infecting my room, like a virus That sits beneath your skin even after The worst has passed. You don’t even know them, Our parents are a new model. I still remember the Busted up ford ranger they brought you home in a year ago. Everyone Said you looked liked Dad, and me. I thought you Looked like a catastrophe. A car crash. A train wreck. Wrecking into my understanding of who our parents Are. I’ve never met the sweet kisses you get. Maybe they gave me them When I was this young too. All I can hear is the knocking of fists On wood-paneled rooms. And screaming. And a tiny version Of a lullaby on your mobile above your crib. And your stupid Rise and fall of your stupid chest, and I can’t help but hate you brother. Sincerely, Ben, Your Older Brother, and the only hope you’ve got in this house 2. V- I asked you to stack Legos with me. I hoped we’d make a Tower unlike the world had ever seen. I always like The smiling face ones. It brightens up bleak architecture. You kicked it over and told me you were too old for Legos Or happy faces. You sat on your bed and plugged oversized headphones Into a record player. I see you unsheath a song with a purse-lipped man Spread arms like the crucifix I see in Children’s Church. We sometimes Color it in with crayon. I try to avoid the color red. Red like Daddy’s face When he yells at Mommy. She must have done something wrong, But I’ve never seen it. She just feeds me and kisses me and tries To act like Daddy never yells. You show some sympathy just behind Your eyes when you see the yelling upset me, but you never say anything. Ben, you never say anything to me. With love, Vinnie, Lego Architect extraordinaire
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