Ken Been
On its way bumping like a silvery print drum tumbling over the cracks and the tight roots of September rolling out turf-messages head-over-heels over the sidelines over the chalk past water bottles and street shoes and book bags coming in hot on thick-blade grass look out man straight
Toward me
And I see my feet as if they’d just stomp clamp down on the ball a flamadiddle trick then toe it begone a bit of a kick to the soccer Varsity paused for me my spectacle my Latinate learning surely chipped somewhere into campus stone a Veritas eternally there in neuroscience in physics in distance ÷ speed of absurdity of parody of poetry of paintings all in one conspiring curriculum my uptakes my pivots dropped golden and red away in the fall senescence so beautiful on the grounds by the duck pond the better players waiting hands on their hips with four o’clock expectations
Of just getting their ball back.
Ken Been’s poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies. A sampling of these include The Headlight Review, Arlington Literary Journal, Plainsongs, Kestrel, Poetica Magazine, Passages North, Speckled Trout Review and Remembering Lawrence Ferlinghetti. A grandfather, he is from Detroit.
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