Tagged: john ashberry

Poem: Your Hands

Some guys go for great big racks Protruding in the air. Some guys go for long lean legs And locks of silky hair. Some guys go for buns of steel Firm as just-picked peaches. Some guys go for puffy lips, bikinis on the beaches.   I’m not insane, I don’t complain When offered such delights....

Poem: The Crash

Startled by an interloper, something bigger than they, a moving shadow that connotes death, Or what is understood to be the end, The little ones flutter away, dashing hysterically for cover, like a child seeking solace Beneath his blanket. All but one are safe. The unlucky fellow crashes head-first into an invisible pane of glass,...

Poem: Go On

The night sky, tinged with neon blue around the edges. The day sky, diffusing into whiteness past the clouds. The farmers plot, unbound by hedges. The sacred Mecca, bewitched by shrouds.   Infinity is what we make it, the way we gauge this endless space Immune to ploys — one cannot fake it — suffused...

Poem: The Latest

Off in mad pursuit of the hottest, the latest, the mostest — and we say that not ironically at all because As anyone who knows anything about culture — or Culture, capitalized ironically, like a Tom Wolfe neologism — knows that Getting more If not all Is the point of all this scurrying. Much like...

Poem: Friends

Our surrogate family congregated in the church of our living room, Joining together to give praise and feel joy, with hardly a thought given to the consequences of enjoying sensual pleasures of the tongue and ear and eye. We smiled and laughed and nodded, Creating an affirmation — A conviction really — That the colors...

Poem: Three Haiku

Japanese writers Unbound by conventional Occidental themes +++++   A metrical form Where symmetry blossoms Into poetry +++++   The avocation Preferred by those who dislike Capitalist toils

Poem: Inequity

Have another dry-aged steak cooked medium-rare, sir. And more creamed spinach? They go nicely with your claret, that ruby nectar that inspires Torrents of adjectives. Like “plummy.” And “herbaceous.” Never mind, sir, that your belly is full. It can be fuller. We ask only that as you shovel chewy morsels between your teeth, Like a...

Poem: Shall I Stand?

Shall I stand On my feet Erect and perpendicular, an animated sculpture exposed to the wind and The desecration of public scorn? Shall I stand? Shall I, stalk-like, yearn for the sky — Or at least the ceiling, the plastered governor that dictates the limit Of our aspirations? Shall I? Or — and this would...

Poem: Family

The shorthand for “we are closer than two people trying to profit from the other” Is family. So she repeats this key phrase, as though it were The magic code from a 1930s adventure movie That keeps our hero safe From nefarious dark savages. We are family. We are family. We are like family. Us,...

Poem: Cleansing

Interminable showers, laced with lye Astringents cascading down fair skin turned pink By heat and scrubbing — The forceful scouring that a wok gets after an overlong stir-fry. No amount of water Or soap Or solvent Can remove the stain Left behind like a the penumbra of light produced by an explosion. Choices were made...