My photo
Poet, Artist and co-owner of Lasting Images Photography

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Poetic Devices

Poetic Devices
I sold my car to become a poet.
Not for money but device-less
My computer too.
That window without
a view.
In days to come
I shunned my dishwasher,
listening instead to the swoosh 
of suds in the sink.
The squeak of a clean plate
echoed in my voice.
One morning I noticed 
the air conditioner’s drone,
that constant groan of cold air 
had to be cliche.
I traded its roar for tacky ticking--
then I tossed my clock
and bought a sundial.
Always I reached
for what had never been
invented. Further and further back
till there was no written language.
Eventually I had to stop
writing altogether, get myself
a drum. 
the pound of pure sound--
never mind its wordless rendering.

I dream I am chased by a tiger
panting without metaphors
for my fear or here
sitting in my mud house
without a carpet cleaner.

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