Featured Poem 6/18/02:

The Big Question

The crack of dawn
Refused to leave our house.
The burden fell back comfortably.

Strength and blame.
Gaily colored floor tile
Began to push up.

The most brilliant sea.
A knife I named silence
Parallel to the train.

Red laughter sandwiches
Melting in my left eye,
I had to sit

By my middle teens.
The rationale of maroon socks
Numbered the overhead officials.

My private Eisenhower
Having to translate
That novel bread,

I began a lifelong
Game of catch
At the volatile zoo.

Average fingers,
A handwritten world,
Heavy goods,

The clinically dead blur
Of my numerous knee bends.
A few musicians surrounded me.

Squatting and bellowing
An arbitrary behemoth
Offered me a rare daydream.

For a brief period in the morning
Its laconic other-worldly upkeep
And mechanically small plot

Fastened tightly to my wrist.
There was no page turning,
But remedies were devised.

The big question
Has remained in exile
Ever since.


© 2002 Ron Czerwien

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