Issue 8
September 2001
Jim Mackey
"I" am in these works. They are me and representative of my views, my past and my hopes for the future.
Three A.M. and the words rattle 'round
Eradicating sleep, holding open eyes weighted
By pounds of hours.
Three A.M. and the letters rapidly and rabidly dance the dance of their own creation.
Spinning, twisting, singing in languages never heard by man yet understood by all.
Three A.M. and the illusion of weariness holds my mind captive
As the screen bounces to the music of the muse.
Amusing.
Amusing muse music. Or perhaps, mood music made more modernly maudlin.
Three A.M. andthewordsruntogether,
Chasing themselves across the screen, each leading the rest yet following close behind
As if catapillar segments become a flock of geese heading south, each taking it's turn as leader.
Three A.M. Almost four.
GUMP
Ah th’ top o’ the mornin’,An’ th’ bottom o’ th’ ninth.
Willis an’ Jones were at bat.
Jones hit a fly that dropped to th’ ground,an’ scuttled away after that.
It crawled up th’ pant leg o’ Benny, the catcher,
Who made a few leaps an’ spun ‘round,
Tryin’ to shake loose the brain damaged gnat,
Which was feeling its way all around.
When Ben came to th’ ground,in a terrible heap,
The creature looked out in a daze.
The umpire yelled "OUT!",So it dutifully left,
But by then the whole crowd was enflamed.
Th’ fire crew ran came to put the blaze out,
But th’ fans there were running amuck,
Which turned out o.k. ‘cause it put out th’ blaze,
But th’ bleachers were covered with guck.
A Hollywood type saw th’ whole thing take place,
A thought! That a film could come out.
If he changed a few names and the setting and time,
He’d make a few peso’s,no doubt.
He hoped it would go so he worked and he slaved,
Into it his fortune he’d dump.
And that is the way, we came to th’ screen,
to pay bucks to see Forrest Gump!
EXCELLENCE IN WORDS
The pursuit of excellence in words
A most intriguing pastime.
Does it say the most possible
In the fewest lines?
Does each phrase
Have multiple layers of meaning?
Or are you more interested
In subtle rhymes?
In meting out meter?
Do you care more about the beauty of words,
The sincerity of a stanza?
About whether are understood?
Or about being on the cutting edge?
Can I read your words and know you?
Or stumble over subtlety
In the pursuit of understanding?
Are YOU on the page
Or merely your ego?
Speak to me.
Tell me of your Self.
Introduce me to you.
I wait.