RENDEZVOUS OF THE FRIENDS
By Max Ernst
It’s the usual thing—when friends
come over, they head for the kitchen.
I’m a poor cook, impatient. A slow
simmer makes me crabby. Today
is weird. My friends avoid the kitchen.
They’ve come to see a mountain
that bolted up out of the ground
like a spring coneflower. How it got there,
who knows? I wouldn’t allow anything
that would dwarf our forget-me-nots–
tiny blue flowers sing louder than
many a mountain, but they’re hard
to see. My friends never climb mountains.
Most prefer swings and Lazy Boys. Indolence
takes our hats, puts them in a deep closet,
and we forget them. The mountain holds
moonlight on a leash. None of us
sings well, but we start humming, hoping
to coax the mountain into a lovely pine
needle cha cha. If not,
we can return to the kitchen and talk
about the many ways our lives are going
badly. The many ways our lives are going.
By Salvador Dali
My day keeps ringing. I don’t
know any of the callers. Hello, hello,
I say. Nothing human responds,
ever. I’ve quit expecting
the how are you and the I’m fine.
I’m not fine. I’m talking to something
less than, more than, human. Being
different species, we can’t communicate.
Then again, it’s just as hard to know
what people are really saying. Or
what I’m saying, for that matter. Words
fling out like paint hitting a wall,
a sorry blue spatter. Oh no,
more ringing. Last week I think
it was a zebra. I wanted it to be
black and white, a good runner. Today
it’s a lobster, I’m sure of it,
I can tell by claws clicking. We
have little to say. The sea,
like a stranger on a party line,
tries to horn in. Waves slide
into my living room. I float clear
across the world, never leave home.
— by Kenneth Pobo
Copyright© 2012, by Kenneth Pobo. All Rights Reserved.
Kenneth Pobo won the 2011 qarrtsiluni chapbook contest for Ice And Gaywings, published in November 2011. Forthcoming is Save My Place from finishing line Press.