Tagged: poetry by michael konik

Poem: Consumption

Living here, this stage set of a city, where ersatz glamour trumps Verisimilitude, Where fakery — or as Holden Caulfiield called it, “phony” — gets celebrated Like a two-year-old’s birthday party, One learns to eat or be eaten. The all-you-can-gorge buffet combats the all-they-can-steal machines, Those short-change artists that bleed away your work, Mechanical chiselers...

Poem: Don’t Go

Days not precisely endless — nor even long — trudge past, like defeated soldiers Returning home To pots of consolatory stew and the reassuring embraces of those who know them In victory and failure. The march is like a metronome, And no amount of pleading can make it stop Or falter, even when time ought...

Poem: Blessed

Given the choice between something fabulous and shiny, a talisman of success and power, Or, humbly, The soft gesture of unbidden sublime, I choose the gift of sweetness proffered by the few — the elite — the rare few, Who have found a way, no matter how prickly, To be my friend. When the repetitive...

Poem: Remembered

Even King Richard — the 2nd one, not the mean 3rd one with the hunched back that signaled Disfigurement of character as well as of spine — Even he, a good and noble man In the literal sense, Purchased with his wealth and fame Little more Than a humble plot of earth to lie Forever,...

Poem: Toil

Staring at the back bumper of a finely assembled Japanese sedan, Rolling for miles (and many minutes) in the space that he will occupy Seconds later, when his finely assembled German sedan — The one with the special exhaust package and special wheels, All meant to connote “Special,” although one inherently mistrusts The specialness Of...

Poem: A Prayer

May those afflicted with demons that pour bile in the ear (and more corrosive spirit everywhere else) recognize, as with an epiphany of grace — the kind normally associated with visions of angels and women who have conceived without the mess — that the land they profess to love and cherish, like a child, which...

Poem: The Battle

While outwardly appearing as serene and placid as a Minnesota lake at dawn, before the first fisherman has revved his outboard motor, inwardly the armies rage, warring viciously, like Macedonians conquering Persia — like imperialist sophisticates showing dark-skinned peoples what’s best. The body functions, yes, by all appearances it does, beautifully, and with an efficiency...

Poem: Bach

Where mathematics meets God, where the cacophony of every human voice is harnessed into an ordered and purposeful whole — that’s where you reside. Yet how unlikely, how perverse even, that your name should sound like someone clearing his throat, preparing to expectorate in a most unmelodic way.

Poem: Mollusk

How maddening it was to our friend the mollusk to be subjected almost every day (and sometimes more) to the callous cliche that haunts a bi-valve’s life. Each time someone, oft-times fork in hand, thoughtlessly uttered the bitter oath, the mollusk would feel himself shrinking, shriveling inward, as if he could escape the narrative of...