Author: David Wright

BALER: almost Spanish for dance, evokes kinesis which
AMAZEs; body become poem in space and time,
SPICY every step, nothing bland, all fluid motion,
SEGUE now to me on couch, tired, shlubby–aging as I write this.

CADDY wheezes to a stop on crest of hill, disembarks a picnic.
SHOALs spread out beyond, rippled by spring wind.
BUDGEt has cratered, car is dying, family’s fortunes
STRIPped; they can yet bask in view and sun.

STOKE the embers, coax the flame,
APART we be, but not in thought,
STEAD of ours shall not admit impediment,
ROUGH life’s waves will yet be shamed to calm by love.

SHUSH doldrums! Blues begone!
MIRTH wants out, will jolly about.
SKULL may hold life’s full welter, yet
BURST will out a rolling rollick.

WHACK a mole, ineffably great mishear and misspell, the
PRINTed ‘guacamole’ on menu unremarked for years,
FREED, finally, posting foodie pics and someone
[E]QUIPs ‘orthographical genius’.

FRAIL polis survives another contest,
MANIA may be waning, but also vitality:
WRUNG out, spent, knife edged poised:
RAINY days so long now, do we remember the sun?

STING of salty tears, remembering:
CIRCA 25, starting to realize the great limits,
DRAMA’s tragic seam, story’s flaw, is who I am.
BELLY for all this waned, then. Yet grace is deep enough.

ENEMY’s first blow falls from the blue,
AXIOMs of surprise and daring rewarded,
NAVAL mastery initially achieved, at the
ONSET of what would be an air war-war is always cruel.

MASON makes an old, strange gesture, imaging
REIGN of some kind. Shared ritual does its job to
UNIFY. But the secrecy that makes one wonder-off
LEASH where might this lead?