Posted by Mark Brannan (doctorbinky) on May 26, 19101 at 07:12:05:
No friends remain
and none are made
in limbo,
sitting at a computer
endlessly playing
games or creative music
composed from
200 iterations,
but I don't know
where to begin
in this strip-mall city
or upon what to build
after unknown generations
of recycled Irish
and German insensitivity
washed into America
and memories of
brother's pride:
"We come from a long line
of farmers, Democrats, and union factory workers."
I ask where the anonymous glory of work
might hide on an icy night.
I freeze when I speak,
not from wasted gallons
of steam rising
from my shaved cranium
inside the freezer
on a forklift sideways
guiding cream puffs
into steel,
but from the chilled reminder,
a living memory
as my voice fades
and mimics
my father's deep and distant monotone,
a steady life
without variety or song--
I must dance away
rather than drink
or think away life
and unite
poetry with action
away from the Milwaukee River
and onto the northernmost Mississippi.
(Goodbye, Milwaukee!)
http://www.doctorbinky.com