Category: Corpus
Take a Proustian journey through my life vis-à-vis the words I have published to the Internet over the last four decades.
Throughout Percy Walker’s first novel The Moviegoer, narrator Jack “Binx” Bolling spends much of his time engaged in an intense inquest into the contents of his navel. He is a Walter Mitty wiling away his time (and the novel’s pages) with day-dreams, remembrances, and meditations on the mundane, movies, and the malaise.
A latex slip, ribbed for her pleasure, is pregnant
with half-babies vainly swimming
in an open-ended tunnel capped with a reservoir tip.
Her intimates, intermingling with his pink
Polo shirt, lie curled up in a ball,
freshly unfurled from her young frame.
Tendrils, chiseled in stone-colored smoke
borne from a Camel Light, swirl in the dusky
incandescence before fading from sight.
Coltrane, on wax, carves a space in sound with his sax;
“Giant Steps” walks the room and scores the scene
until “A Love Supreme” conquers all.
The seismic pothole on Main Street has grown
and has started to gnaw on the sidewalk.
Most motorists and all pedestrians
avoid the byway, preferring the park-
way instead, so we ask that you refill
the road starting with the hole. We had planned
to send thousands of pleasant letters, all
requesting this favor with eloquence.
Sadly—Harold has to take the children
to karate; Karen has Pilates
until seven, and the rest have chosen
not to care, so we elected a mouthpiece,
this young writer named Michael Ollinger,
to deliver these capital concerns.
Borborygmi
have finished their low growls and now howl
aloud just like
a ravenous wolf pack surveilling
the frozen lands
of the Arctic for lonesome elk.
From the muffled
muttering of other stomachs
sitting around
the table, I know that the storm
of starving wolves
are not the lone scavengers here.
Snarling dingoes
and snickering hyenas join
in the unrest
and request in guttural tones
that some ripe prey
is found or delivered post haste.
I start to pray
that my meal is served soon before
my gut’s moans grow
louder and warn my friends, fellow
feasters and beasts
on the prowl for hapless pizza.