Kendra Steiner Editions (Bill Shute)

April 8, 2008

poem: Marion, Texas (from NEXT EXIT: TWO)

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 3:38 pm

Here’s another Texas-set poem of mine from NEXT EXIT: TWO. Hope you enjoy it.



   a   train       whistle

         deep   ,       textured   ,       prolonged           


     spreading  and  melting        across

        the  West  Side  of  Marion

            like  cheap  yellow  oleomargarine

                 on  burned  day-old  bread


                            calling    me    out    

                                             of  my  stupor


        town full of metal

             buildings   once  thought

                        temporary   (different  colors  of  paint

                                     having  faded   into  a dull   sameness)     ,   

                                but    lacking

                                    any  initiative  to  move

                                                                                   once   settled


                  porn rentals  (steeped with the flavor

                              of  yesterday’s  fried chicken)  

                                         under          the  convenience store  counter,


                  high school pregnancies      under                       the radar,   

                                  major-brand  beer               purchased in 24-packs


      the ruling class                            won’t even live here ,

                 supervising  their  properties

                        and  investments         ,         their tenants and

                               managers  and  go-fers     ,    from

                                         the  comfort  of  air-conditioned

                                                   San  Antonio  suburbs


           while  we  bake   in   our  mobile homes

                         and  labor in our metal workplace-furnaces


           crusts  hardening  and  thickening

                      until we become ash          to   be     scattered

                                                     to   be       liberated

                                                                 by  some  future    wind

                                                                                     from  the  East


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