First Place (category 18 & above), Webstatic Poetry Contest, Jan - Jun 2002
 

Facets Spawned

sometimes I find myself on an overpass
fumbling in the glove box
making tossed salad of whatever is in there
looking for a receipt or an errant scrap
anything to scribble a few words on

before they slip from my high beams
and their syllabic stew slams on the brakes
leaving tread marks where lines should be

someday I’ll buy a cassette
staple my voice to magnetic hide
and harvest my volleys free of scrimpy paper

someday I’ll train myself to flatten the ocean
and teach my little word-bots
to rattle before dusk
wake when I tell them to wake
drive between the stripes in my road
someday
if I can fool myself it is I who holds the remote

but what good is that?
why build tornados with canned wind?
why punch the clock, feign exhilaration
sucker swatting deities
for a chance at play by play?

is that what happened to Hemingway?
did assembly lines hold the barrel
while depression pulled the trigger?
did “la corrida de toros”
become another yawn in the park?

why did Tennessee
stagger to his bed swizzle sticks cocked
gunning for old menageries?

inspiration is inspiration
it comes when it comes
embellishing the moment with facets spawned
trained to refract their own light
steer their own straits

at times like asterisks
with no stomach for discourse
at times verbose, snuggled in my armchair
comfy yet tenuous
like summer air caught between two mountains

and when they go, they go
propelled by currents inherent in their juices
leaving us with the choice to lament
. . . or move on.


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Copyright ©2002 by Ken Adams. All rights reserved.
Ken is also a Webstatic poet. See more of his work HERE.

Music on this page – Tempestuous Seas – ©Elan Michaels