poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Ignatius’ Literary Fireworks

“I’ll take 5 pounds of irony,” says a gnarly customer
at the front counter, presenting bearded, checkered-shirted
and suspendered much like the man across from him
who replies, “We generally sell irony by the cubic yard –
do you have an account with us?”

Behind them other customers walk among stacks
of Hawken muzzleloaders and Sharps breechloaders
from black powder country waiting to speak
at demonstrations every third Friday evening

after dark in a field out back
announced on bulletin boards at the front door
inside and out, beside announcements of workshops
and appeals to lost children, pets, partners – come home –

on one such Friday night, the next or the previous
we await slow firing into accommodating darkness
there is no sound except on a nearly organic internal track

like familiar branches clicking against one another in a slight breeze


‘something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that wants it down’

‘o thin men of Haddam, why do you imagine golden birds?’
‘each man is a half-open door leading to a room for everyone’
‘your job is to find what the world is trying to be’

as in a theatre necessary darkness
opens to flashes and colored light roarings
when fading they pause while on an open moment
hang our common darkness, our brief paling light

2 Responses to “Ignatius’ Literary Fireworks”

  1. Thomas Davis

    This is quite a poem. The quotes are interesting at the end of the poem, but I like the narrative first part especially well. It has character.

    • place9011

      Thanks again, Thomas. My favorite poet is Wallace Stevens, and there are effects of his work in mine, including a quote or two, as here.


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