lumpen

Poem #38 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction


he is a lumpen man
clumsy in his doings
crude in the way he speaks
the things he sees

laboring
over manual movements
machine operations
the mechanics

noise
whine and roar and yell
and bray
so loud
over the funniest thing
you ever saw or heard

ho ho ho
ha ha

he is
a lumpen man
dirt and dust and beer
and the wind
that must be passed

his overalls at home
cast to the floor
in a dirty corner
of the laundry room

and so
to the fireside

each night
a match to paper
and then
the dance-dance-dancing
of flame

the first crackling shot
fired from a twig
alight
ignited by his hand

a swaying opera
that holds his gaze
each time
as if it was brand new

and inside himself
he rises
to sing
within the roar
of the drawing grate
the open flue

until
a minute gone
his eyes
have closed
on the world and the cares
of a lumpen man


© Frank Prem 2017

Bachelard and me Poem #39: gazing contrails

3 thoughts on “lumpen

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