Festivals
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During the winter Festival of Beans, we saw the men with
patchy hair eat with their fingers and drink from steel cans.
I was stunned by their frantic hunger, the juice on their knuckles
gleaming like milk on the rim of a black plate.
So singular was their purpose — I wanted my friends to feel the weight of their
craving, but they were not present. They were hidden somewhere,
pressed against a dark obsession with their position,
they battled their worries from day to day.
It was the same with school. Those who should have arrived
did not show. The rest of us tended to our books and let their words
attempt to better us, but we failed to understand.
Over the weekend, we turned up
at the Festival of Blue Eyes. We saw them reflect the sky while people
made armpit noises and adamantly stated how the blue had damaged
history.
How the blue had crippled the hope of the boldest architecture,
and how the blue made us lost in our furniture.
They set us to wander off to
the Festival of Lightning, the Festival of Dust Mites, the Festival of
Turn Signals, the Festival of Doorknobs, the Festival of Dandruff, and
the Festival of Handshakes.
The accord made with the mundane is the same
as the accord made with each other. But the unions are dead.
The bowling leagues are gone. I have seen the best arms and legs
and hands shape and carry the load from gig to gig to gig.
What has been lost that the Festival of Repetitive Motion Injuries
cannot restore? I want the order of time to run towards fixing things —
every day a Festival of Hand Tools. But each time I hit upon
a satisfied smile, somebody remarks about the discord.
I’m reminded, in no uncertain terms, of some original sin.
Are you looking for similar poetry? Try these:
- Songs of Optimism – Music Poetry
- Overtones – Poetry
- Breath Mark – Music Poetry
- The Eyes of the Soul – Poetry
Tim Kahl
Tim Kahl is the author of four books of poems, most recently Omnishambles (Bald Trickster, 2019). He is also editor of Clade Song. He builds and plays flutes and plays guitars, ukuleles, charangos and cavaquinhos as well. He currently teaches at California State University, Sacramento, where he sings lieder while walking on campus between classes.
Find more from Tim on his website, on Soundcloud, or at Clade Song.
