Tuesday, November 10, 2009

I suspect my subconscious is

I spent the summer after college
working on the machine I described
I suspect my subconscious is
another meat tray machine.
the fun was just beginning.

Those overhead lights would flash to alert
dried by HEAT on a conveyor belt
a 120 degree working environment?
everyone was busy with their own machines.

excessive trauma again
blocking that memory out
there were no bags involved, you merely
can't recall the details--if there was,
put them in a box,
and stay ahead of the machine.

The next experience I recall was
my subconscious protecting me
(in this case, me)

I suspect my subconscious is
the machine I described yesterday.
if there was a counter system or not,
it was the size of Mt. Everest.

The challenge, of course, was to keep
ahead of the machine. (Did I mention
this task seemed reasonable; it did

After a few hours of this activity,
I was young and energetic

The system wasn't perfect. Occasionally,
I was able to keep up
to wipe the sweat off my brow
with the unending tide
"Didn't you see the flashing lights? What the hell
-a piece of cake! For a while things
mixed with pride filled my body

My attention had been focused totally
where prongs would grab them, move them upward
the machine doing the spitting at the other end
had to run to the ladies room and vomit.

4 comments:

willow said...

I like the repetition in this story telling piece. You weren't cramming the meat in your mouth like Lucy and the conveyor belt?

dogimo said...

Thank you willow!

The poems on this page are collage poems. For the ones with a single text source that is someone's blog post, you can click on the blog post title to 'click through' to the original inspiration!

In this case, Eva Gallant's delightful blog, where you will find storytelling aplenty!

Beth Niquette said...

What powerful word pictures you paint!

dogimo said...

Thank you, Beth! (and of course, thanks to Eva, whose original post can be seen if you click this post's title!)