Hamming it up outside!
A vew from one of the office balconies. Yes, some of our offices have balconies! From these, we could promise passers-by "A chicken in every pot!" Okay, enough clowning around. Back to poems.
Sometimes during the thick of Rita's final descent from this life, things needed to be lightened up again."My Weekend" was a brief piece intended to do just that; a little therapy via a weird little poem.
My Weekend
What am I doing this weekend?
I thought
I'd do a little break dancing
A little slam dancing
Traverse a mosh-pit or two
"Joints" is another simple lamentation about getting older.
Joints
Knees and elbows disappoint
They are ugly designs, really
Disappointing in lack of asthetic
Like they were value engineered
They Have not failed me yet
But will
I'd expect finer technology
Still, I sit on my ass many days
Cushioned
I guess
The "Box Logic" trilogy was a series based on the title. I put the two words together on another sleepless night, lying awake in bed. You'll note (when publishd in the next day or so) that "Box Logic 3" is a look back at that night when the title was invented. This became a contest with my son, Nick, an aspiring writer, himself. He's a good photographer too. The contest was for each of us to come up with three poems that worked the title from a different point of view. I think the exercise ultimately frustrated him. He, like most people find it difficult to work from title-first. Box Logic #1 occurs in a dank place; a self-imposed, imaginary prison cell.
Box Logic #1
Imagine Myself
Free From This
In
Car
Ceration
One
Pale
Dust-charged
Ray of Light
From outside
The small
Barred
Window
Bisects my silence
And burns across my shoulder
Near hot
In the damp, cell air
I urinate
In drain gurgle
Rising steam
Catches the ray
My escape intact
One steaming
Fluid ounce
After another
In transit
More tomorrow....
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