In The Sun

sun blazingdown from

heights near or right on

the tangent of pi over two,

 

the skin is crimson chameleon

awaiting the inquisitive child's

touch minus the aloe vera lotion

of course,

 

of course, the imaginary yes nab

audience says to him,

 

and the Minneapolis-Moline

model whatever tractor coated

in rust and burnt orange or

blaze orange from the time of

Korea awaits the refurbishing

to prove that nostalgia is the

biggest cylinder of wound salt

ever conceived,

 

baking in the sun,

 

corroding in the elements,

 

wasting away,

 

losing utility,

 

just like the teacher on

summer vacation investigating

why half of pi over two equals

so many arctangent terms in

so many ways while alternative

country music blares from the

televised radio service,

 

just wasting away finding out

what everybody already knows,

 

the sarcastic ability never ceases

to amaze, the imagined yes man

audience says to him,

 

this stuff defies the

art of logic always

Reviews

[zainul]

Great marriage of science and poem.
Fabulous work.

[Kenneth S.]

Thank you, zainul.

[zainul]

You are most welcome.

[Ed Hart]

you are one of the few who make poetry do something else

[Kenneth S.]

So are you, my friend.