BELLY WOP
poem by Joseph Carcel
In his blue
speedos
he approached the dive
like a lawyer late
to argue an appeal.
Face firm, communicating just determination,
he loped his strides up to the ladder's rung
then started his ascent to spring in air.
So fast
he rose
that one
who blinked
would miss
his rise
and fall,as
springing
tip
hurtled
him
with
mighty
thwack
like thunder.
He rose
like light
until
his apex
reach-
ed,
then flipped.
dropped
first his arms,
then legs
curved back,
like
spider's
limbs,
medusa's
hair,
his hard
rock torso,
light brown
until
it became
a blushing
stone
on
water
turned
to slate
and
covered
soft water jewels
thunder
then cool him
clap with
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POLLOCK
poem by Joseph Carcel
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He dressed in dreams his canvas, mocked
the things that humans see
as things
not needing repetition.
He wanted, of merely human beauty, what
his brushes
and his spoons and sticks
would vend of rainbow rage
upon his universe
he did not wish.
This splatter man rehearsed his death
in drips.
The sirens called
his arms and legs
and wrist but he could
not purge
his metal hurtling soul
nor calm it with a balm of any brew (or anything Jung knew).
The omen screws and bolts and bits of broken glass, he tossed
like gris-gris man upon his ride in paint.
His lonely art gave no respite of pain
until angry hurtling metal turned
him into
saint.
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