Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Evening Poem

Give It Up

What impetus to read for the blind
motivates this ragtag platoon to gather 
on a rainy night in December? Novelty
perhaps. To enter a soundproof booth
with a book one would never read
and record the author's words 
for an unknown . . . it's motivational
genius. Forget camaraderie. Each 

volunteer's sequestered securely
as a virus carrier. Just read how 
Aaron Burr's sexual escapades 
compromised what genius he was dealt.
The prose sticks in places on the tongue.
Cotton language tinged with sand.
To get through a dozen dense pages
in an hour requires focus. Mark 

the transition point to a new page
on the computer recording, and begin
with a renewed sense of inflection's 
resilient potential. Somewhere 
a listener waits to invite your voice
in for an evening's journey. 

No comments:

Post a Comment