Poems
by Michael
Estabrook
Jagged Lines
I read yet another poem
by yet another famous poet
that doesn't make any sense
no music, no beauty
just a bunch of jagged lines
anything to be different.
But this lack of comprehension
missing the sublime subtleties
the hidden meanings has to be me.
Perhaps I should read it again
there must be more to this thing
than meets the eye.
Queen Anne
Heavy into genealogy 20 years ago
almost connecting my family
to Queen Anne Boleyn of Henry VIII fame
thinking perhaps
I should get back to it
because the Internet has so much more
information now
than it had back then and it really
would be terrific to fill in those twenty generations
between her and my grandchildren
because it would be oh so cool
being related to one of the
most powerful women in the history of the world.
Dude
Two months ago I gave my good friend Bill
a copy of Controlling Chaos my 120-page hybrid long poem
asked him today over lunch
if he's had a chance to read any of it.
He looks up sheepishly from his plate of meat loaf and gravy
“No not yet but I put it on my TV stand so I know exactly where it is.”
Suddenly the Devil appears out of nowhere like usual
popping into my life uninvited and says
“You didn't really expect him to read that thing did you dude.”
I hate it when the malignant little fucker calls me “dude.”
When you visit New York City once
every five years
no matter how much planning you do: rooms and meals
timing, tickets, and taxis
you cannot avoid bumping into people
getting stepped on
cannot prevent sore feet and calves and back
cannot help getting turned around:
Uptown Downtown, Eastside and West –
But it's worth it, it's all worth it because
you got to see a Broadway play, an opera at Lincoln Center
got to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art
got to sit on a bench in Central Park
and eat an official New York City hot dog.
So I’m fast asleep minding my own
damned business when suddenly
a nightmare wakes me up:
I’m out front of our condo when I notice
a dozen boards of the siding between our front door
and the kitchen window are rotted as hell!
(I’m out there every day how did I miss this?)
Cracked and missing pieces, rotted bits of wood
flaking off, oozing out.
I can almost see into the kitchen. And I panic
because our Condo Board is notoriously slow responding
to issues, problems, and complaints
and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to
get their attention!
Last year we had a chipmunk in the walls
luckily I was able to get the thing out
otherwise it would still be in there raising
his family, chewing on the walls.
Don’t know what’s worse – termites or people.
I know where this nightmare came from –
That stupid Weather Channel documentary
I watched last night about termites
and urban blight.
(When I got up and dressed I went out front to have a look.)
Stupid Weather Channel!
