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Columns > John Zinkand - Improvise

Published: 2009/02/22
by John Zinkand

III Poems

Happy Birthday

Its been a year,
Another one,
But unlike the other ones
A new year without fear,
Without loss
An albatross?

Odors of indifference,
Dont waft so freely
And smell so real-
Or stretch like rubber
On a flat tire
Will we take it higher?

Rubble and distress scattered around
And even more will be found.
But we can smile
And laugh out loud,
We will not mope
Do you hear the hope?

There will be trudging
But weve destroyed the bludgeon,
For now anyway,
Like gravy flowing-
Or wavy beams of light
Stopping fright.

The Bag Man

Floating randomly,
Randomly wondering,
Why or why not?
How does it end?

Peering into a paper bag
Stuffed with words.
Suck them out
With a straw.

Milky residue
Slides down the side
Of your mind
And onto a sheet of paper.

And the bag man comes,
Cuts some holes for the eyes,
Hides his head,
And gags.

Nobody Knows

Time goes down the drain,
Swirls and disappears,
Like clouds over the horizon,
Sailing silently over new continents.

Is it really gone all the way?
Or has it just moved on,
Like a vagrant on a train,
To a new town, a new bottle?

Does it bend around the corners of the earth?
Does it float and flip and ooze into outer space?
Does it crinkle up like used wrapping paper?
Tossed away and useless after the celebration?

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