Static Mass Emporium


He doesn’t look directly at the sun just clearing
the tree line, gazing instead down at the lake –
directly into the apex of sunlight, blinded in waves.

After supper they hadn’t driven directly home.
The pool hall they went to required him to drive
perpendicular to the quickest route, turning right.

She watched him angle the cue ball off a bumper,
avoiding the eight-ball, and sinking the fifteen –
the three had been aligned perfectly; scratch-proof.

“Is that how I entered your heart, off the side?”

“No,” he smiled, bringing the fifteen back out,
realigning the balls.  Chalking the cue, he whispered,
“You always take the straight shot.”

The cue ball jumped the eight-ball perfectly.  “Crack!”
Again, the fifteen dove into the pocket.  His hand
came up to his chest, covered his heart.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered as she took the cue,
and carelessly sunk the eight in a far pocket; no angles.


Posted at Poetic Aside (even though I’m not doing the PAD… why not?).  The daily prompt was Triangles.

21 thoughts on “Vertices

      • I’m basically a visual learner. When I was in college, I wrote my essays, stories and poems based on how the words looked on the paper. I was in a writing track. Originally, I took a writing class to learn how to write. I got an A and they recommended me to the intermediate classes. I got an A and ended up a candidate for the writing program. I took graduate classes in Fiction, Autobiography, and Poetry. I was recommended to and admitted into the Writer’s Workshop in Iowa (never went). But I never “learned how to write.” “We find and use what we can.”

        Liked by 1 person

      • Iowa!! Oh man, do you ever wish you had gone? Long reply required on “not having learned how to write.” Completely the same. I had no idea whatsoever how to go about this until recently. Somehow, poems were supposed to present themselves, and I would then transcribe and work them. Spent decades hoping the muse would magically just show up. Which unfortunately would happen on some super rare occasions, which reinforced my belief in how it worked. I was stunned when I randomly started April 2016 PAD, and discovered how wrong I’d been. And worse, everybody else seemed to have known this but me. Yes, we find and use what we can. We can take pieces, parts, words, and explore as deep into the center as we can brave. I remind myself almost daily that my job is to get out of the way. My mantra is something I read in an interview with Bukowski – “I don’t ‘try’ and write at all. I wait like a spider and if something lands in my web I scuttle out to go get it” or something like that. Exactly. Write out webs of lines, stay aware, feel for the slightest twitch.


      • Hahaha… Bukowski as a spider sitting a web! Fitting somehow! No, I had nothing to present in Iowa. The writers in residence would have sent me running with my cliche between my cliches.


      • I used to run in the “Jack Kerouac 5K” in Lowell Massachusetts. It was my favorite race since it was so weirdly appropriate (he was a good athlete when young) and inappropriate at the same time. After the race we were supposed to hit all the bars and down a shot of whiskey at each one. Not!


      • I attempted reading On the Road. I used to run eight miles a day. I’d get home and forget everything that formed in my thoughts during the run. Whiskey, perhaps, works better. Jazz definitely does.

        Liked by 1 person

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