Poetry from Alan Catlin

Inspired by the photos of Eugene Meatyard

Abstraction: chalk with nails

lying one against the other

amid layers of dust

settled beneath eraser clapped,

chalk marked

board,

both nail and chalk

ten penny sized,

one blunt & reused many times,

the others hard & permanent,

unscathed

& a child’s hand nearby

poised to choose

one or the other

Boy wearing white mask beneath broken mirror

hung at adult height

for easy viewing

what is no longer there

The boy’s horror mask

conceals what he might be

feeling,

creates the suggestion that

something might lie

beneath

or within:

the boy and the image

of the boy

wearing a white mask beneath a broken mirror

in a marked

for demolition

home

Two boys, one seeing through a hole in the wall

the other

in profile

in another ruined room

The peeling wallpaper,

the dropped ceiling

where someone fell through,

random piles of dust and debris

broken shards of glass

for trapping the sun’s last light

Boy holding shard of glass before face

When a mirror breaks

where do all

the images it once

contained go?

Are they set free to wander as memories

or is their liberation a kind of

banishment?

A punishment for trusting

such an inconstant medium

as glass?

Only the boy holding a shard

of glass before his face

knows

Boy with two rubber masks climbing rock

one covering his face,

as he climbs

the rock wall,

finger tips grasping

the next hold,

right leg testing where

the left one should go,

the other mask

hanging from a belt loop

in his pants,

its features drawn,

deflated,

as the empty eyes sockets,

nose holes,

the downturned mouth,

with no words left to express

Romance for Ambrose Bierce #3

after Gene Meatyard

Deliberately placed about

the outdoor scene are

painted numbers like

evidence cards for forensic

reasons like markers at a crime scene

randomly spaced on these

rude wooden viewing stands,

bleachers for outdoor events

children dressed for this late Fall

afternoon’s entrainment

wearing sweaters, corduroy pants,

jackets, turtlenecks relaxing,

waiting for second half, quarter,

next event, whatever follows once

shadows lengthen, their grotesque

rubber masks visible after dark

when nothing else is.

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