:: Article

Three Poems

By Ken Taylor.

a poem without a single tree in it

some people tell us entering the famous gash
in his side is born across a refurbished cinema:
every other row of seats removed for the best
leg room. layers of paint chipped off to expose
egyptian. storm chasing sound. the film playing
is about film so surfaces pile up: that infradian
rhythm & the great spinach disaster. everyone
wants candy. disbelief prone on a sticky floor.

i was offered office space back of the projection
booth. curb appeal couldn’t trump a paucity of
three-pronged plugs. planes fly by the window
& you can wish to be in one. trying to find the
storehouse by dancing tin & stones set in a font
hard to read from on high: tithe or fish or knife.

in case of fire, spill or release

the flight attendant drops his register to make
up for a dearth of girlfriends, says: our lunch
is only possible with bees or the wind. thought
bubbles exercise angst throughout the cabin.
exercise is: two fingers, three things. 4B wants
more fig leaf. 4C: a slip-n-slide. all other hands
re-blue guns & upset that numinous boarding
hierarchy. trending now: bird strike.

our co-pilot lapses on the names of mountains.
her cockpit succumbs to bean vine tendrils &
deveining begins. the pilot steers by dust up
from dry lake beds: stick & rudder man from
way back. engine one declares a new pope.
engine two: pagans make better lovers.

self-portrait as joseph cornell

not once did i lift the skirt of a ballerina.
boxes in the yard means a local scandal
& thus all this organized departure. birds
will live here for a time before they pipe
broken clay songs & wake the neighbors.
eve comes (not the woman but the slight
era before the stars appear or planets) in
a darker crinoline with fresh instructions.

everyone says it’s important to masticate:
smaller food suits you. this found laundry
ticket fends off sophistry. my flautist rang
the other day & claimed she couldn’t keep
our appointment. hiccupping ampersands
again, she said, & dust & glass & swan.

kt0076
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ken Taylor lives and writes in North Carolina. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Volt, Eoagh, The Chattahoochee Review, elimae, MiPOesias, The Carolina Quarterly, Southword, Gigantic Sequins, Clade Song, and others.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Monday, July 23rd, 2012.