Some drafts

These are really rough drafts, so don’t judge me.  The first poem (for steel cannot cut wind) is our 20-word poem, the second (Mondays, 3pm) is a tribute to the style of Jennifer Dick and has a similar topic to the poems in her book Fluorescence.

 

for steel cannot cut wind

Shattered cobalt, broken on the floor.

Cold steel, forged by

caring hands,

trembling hands,

hot fire.

A mirage in the flames,

a testament to all of civilization.

Above.

Fissures in the chimneystack. The smoke

billowing out against the indigo sky,

transparent

turbulent

in the night.

Below.

What appears to be

                                    unrequited,

what appears to be

                                    the martyrdom of man

has actually been returned:

the summit of mankind has steel to thank.

But when the spindrift lingers

like the moon clings to night,

like dew sticks to plants,

all that is carboniferous beware:

catastrophe will strike.

 

And you can try with

nuclear physics,

structured villanelles.

You can try with

expressionism,

formalism,

all the –isms.

 

But you will never understand it, and you can never stop it.

 

Mondays, 3pm 

Do you promise to be honest?

                           There is light sifting through the trees here,

                           bouncing off the pavement, slick with wet.

Sure.

                           The light here is filtered,

And then what happened?

                           sifted, broken to its essence.

                           They say a rose with no thorns,

is still a rose.

A rose?

                           But I don’t think so. A rose with thorns

                           is a rose. A rose without thorns is

Yes?

         willing, but I’m

How was your weekend?

                           Scattered. The right word is scattered

                           because light can’t be filtered;

                           only scattered.

Better than last?

                           Always better than last. Never look

                           back, never look behind you, or under

                           the bed,

Tell me more.

                           you don’t know who’s waiting there.

                           The boogeyman or just a man. Just

That’s our time for today.

                           No colors. Blank and white. A broken

                           porch light, a broken

Let’s go back to that night.

                           Concrete steps. The handrail broke.

                           Can you imagine how much weight

                           that must have been? To break a rail you

How was your weekend?

                           but it was probably shitty anyway.

                           Light filtering, dust rising, dusk dawning

I don’t think I’ll be coming back next week.