Friday, September 25, 2015

Antique Remedy (Fodder)

That blue typewriter has taken hold of me
I bend and avoid it (like a wordsmith
who has lost his tongue in a knife fight)
The funny thing is
      that typewriter isn't blue
      but my sewing machine is
Maybe I should have learned to thread a needle
      maybe I did

This poem is called Fodder

In the city
the sun sets in the east
against the mirror of office buildings

At our table
You read me someone else's poetry
quietly and deliberately

The cattle chews on the thread
I replace all of the buttons
because I am missing 


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