Monday, August 15, 2011

For poets who don't get out much, I recommend a cluster of nearby knick-knacks. I also recommend getting out more, but that is neither here nor there. Well . . . it IS there but it's not here. Here being this: a poem born of reclusion.

Desk Globe

The desk globe makes its case

For world travel—spun

By a thumb, brought

To a shrieking halt by a


A random locale with special

Meaning, like grandmother

Through the fanning Scriptures—

Her horoscope

On linen.

The whole earth—our subtle

Recline, our gentle

Catapult through the entirety of time—full of places

To meet our makers, to eat

Manically, to walk, lance blisters,

And walk on.

Like grandmother across

Her boundless losses—

Orthopedic shoes to Calgary,

There to lay down her accreted

Planet of mostly water.


  1. Very nice. From "The whole earth...and walk on." = what a language punch. So much there and I love the variety.

    Orthopedic shoes bothers me. But I'm just, just getting over my total aversion to pop culture in poems. So bear with me. My latest has

  2. Admittedly, "orthopedic" IS a bit clunky for my tastes. And I trust your instincts, so I am going to rework that line. Any suggestions? I still kinda need her going to Calgary, but the mode is flexible.

    Aside: Are orthopedic shoes pop culture? My own aversion generally steers me clear of such references.