What I Really Want — Quentin Clabwright
poetry ☆
poetry ☆
is a beer
like a skunk
and a cigarette
like a pencil
and a good, good mind
like a sponge
and a better life
like I can’t define
Quentin was born and raised in the Mormon glue trap most commonly referred to as "Utah," though he now resides in the burnt out hedonistic husk of Portland, OR. Most of his writing is an atom bomb caused by a chain reaction of trivial complaints building on trivial complaints, the catalyst to which is riding a bus or a train and staring transfixed as life passes by outside the windows.
When he's not writing, Quentin is reading the biggest high fantasy novels that can still feasibly be carried around in an ancient backpack without splitting the seams. Either that, or he's torturing future poets and writers by forcing them to consider comma usage and participial phrases.
So far, Quentin's work has appeared in journals such as SLCC's Folio, WSU's Metaphor, Tin Can Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review.
