by Bill Yarrow
The custard of eternity is scooped into
the quantum cone of knowledge and drips
out the bottom one lifetime at a time.
Sunburned man stands on the boardwalk
of emotion watching the tourists of the future
eye the bruised merchandise of the past.
Meanwhile, the bronze present undoes
the blouse of the impossible imagining
ice floes and Tiki lights and sushi bars.
Is there no escape from raw thinking?
Is there no respite from rash imagining?
Like a discarded tub of fries on the fringe
of the pristine beach, the lax head lies prey
to the cawing clawing seagulls of salt thought.
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This poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012).
It was republished in Olentangy Review.
Thank you, Darryl and Melissa Price.
*
So good.*
Beach poem!
I like the sudden transitions and increasing--the double alliteration in the last line. *
Profoundly playful. Or do I mean playfully profound? *
I like this:
The custard of eternity is scooped into
the quantum cone of knowledge and drips
out the bottom one lifetime at a time.
I have to visit Coney Island now!*
Thank you, Myra, Gary, Gary, John, Mathew, Samuel, and Amanda!
Quantum culinary!
Great imagery! Another Coney Island of the Mind. *
Good poem, Bill. Especially like the pivot in stanza 3. #
*, Bill. Excellent poem. I like this a lot:
"Is there no escape from raw thinking?
Is there no respite from rash imagining?"
Thank you, AJ, Daniel, Sam, and David!
This really hit me. ***
Great phrasing here, and lots of truth *
This is a small and successful poem that shows you exactly how to write a poem.
Thanks, Brenda, Foster, and Darryl! Much appreciated!
How do you do that? Wonderful! *
Perhaps imagination tastes like salt. Great.*
Thank you, Charlotte and Tim!