“In 1916, The Etude magazine was $1.50 for the year. And that’s the good news. The bad news … my time travel bracelet was stolen by the White Witch; you know, the lady from those C.S. Lewis stories. I guess I wont’ be happy anytime soon.”
—Woodheavy Brown, circa 1993
Thanks for all the Pee
Three Easy Poems
K. Shawn Edgar
Walking the Docks
Her full shipment moves at a jaunty, magnetic clip.
Whirlwinds subside and sea monsters submit,
to her comings and goings. She is a cargo ship
in a world of overvalued, pressboard plastic vessels
all too slender and filled with stagnant air.
And believers of the consumptive faith.
She’s an ice crusher, a frozen Arctic figure skater
moving with the purpose of Sherlock Holmes
through the denizens’ maze of street market hustles
and Curzon Cub riots.
Starfish fingers and custard covered phone cards—
all the leftovers from 1990s backpack travelers—
fall away as She spirits the wind.
How is it eight of ten visitors to the docks
see only the light sailboats and party yachts
when Her long sharp curves part the water,
become the water, the sea, the horizon?
Her clip is magnetic; draw me lingering
on the balls of my feet, so straight
and tall, tipping toward Her wake
on the water.
Longing and Melancholy
Say it with frost on your teeth,
deep space is cold.
Madrid is coming.
Or we are coming to Madrid.
She’s always been.
She’ll see you through
to the end.
Stale, dark rainwater
Gray cars punctuate
smooth black asphalt.
Unknown empty spaces.
Engine off; deep breath.
Eyes blinking up
starbursts from greenish
All movement wavers,
finally stalling as lids close.
Copyright © 2015 Publicrats United
K. Shawn Edgar
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