|
TVBC
MICHAEL SALINGER has been writing and
performing poetry and fiction for over 15 years. His work has
appeared in dozens of literary journals published across the US
and Canada, including Poetry Magazine, Sapphire
Magazine, Taproot, The Detroit Metro Times,
and The Cleveland Free Times. His latest collection of
poetry and flash fiction, Neon, was published in 2002 by
Bottom Dog Press. Five-time captain of the Cleveland Slam team
that represented the city at the National Poetry Slam competition, Salinger has featured at venues across the country,
including Passims in Boston, the Green Mill in Chicago, and the
Nuyorican Cafe and CBGB’s in New York City, and has shared the
stage with Ed Sanders, Patricia Smith, Henry Rollins, Lydia Lunch, Marc Smith, Jello
Biafra, and many more. He has taught
workshops in many colleges and high schools, including Oberlin,
Muskinghum, Kent State and Case Western Reserve University.
Salinger currently lives in Mentor, Ohio, and runs both the
Classic Cleveland Poetry Slam and the Nova Lizard Project, a
performance art troupe. Click
Here to visit Michael Salinger’s homepage.
Glasses
/ Michael Salinger
At least I had enough sense to lock my
floating Flambeu
tackle box
while I wishbone straddle balanced on the edge
of the canoe
Jack Nicholson ax swinging the oar above my head
in a futile attempt to dislodge
the eight dollar and fifty cent jitterbug lure
that my ex-brother-in-law had managed to feed
the catalpa tree
Leaves and twigs rain down onto the water’s
surface
concentric circles outlining their landings
swelling
enveloping each other in Japanese sand garden
desk-top feng shui
rake patterns
An animated Tibetan meditation icon
aquatic mandala if you will
whose hypnotic grasp is broken only
by the splash
of a 190 pound six-foot tall male
which happens to be me.
The evening sky rolls by in a hard banking
turn
as the boat obeys the laws of Newton
back slamming me beneath the surface
of the water
where I discover
the true absorbency of my flannel shirt
and the exact depth of the silt
on the pond’s bottom
The electric thrill of sudden oxygen deprivation
races the water that fills my eyes ears and throat
And I’m six years old
I’m in the back yard
and my father is holding me
under the water in the pool again
He thinks it’s funny
but it’s not funny any more
I really can’t breathe, Dad.
it’s NOT FUNNY ANYMORE
‘Til finally my shadow bursts from the murky water
and coughing like a seal off the coast of Alcatraz
I wet dog wade to shore
only to discover
I don’t have my glasses anymore
Everything’s fuzzy
all the sharp edges
the coloring book outlines drop away
like the scales from Saul turned Paul’s eyes
I’ve crawled from a primordial soup into
a brand new impressionistic world
While a large mouth bass starts his life anew
a freshwater Mr. Limpet
wearing my glasses
warning his cohorts that …
Hey, hey, buddy, that's just a lure!
But
I don’t know the difference anymore
everything is soft
everything is safe
a foam rubber landscape
Oncoming semi-truck headlights?
Those are just big happy fire flies
and the bathroom tiles are
cruising around the room
In fact
99.9% of all inanimate objects are really alive
and I realize
with my real eyes
Salvador Dali
was a photographer
At least I had enough sense to lock my
tackle box
and nowadays
if you’ve got the cash
you can get glasses in an hour
—From Neon
|
