Dave Nielsen is from Salt Lake City. He played NCAA Division I college basketball, and his poems have recently appeared in Parnassus, Ploughshares, The Southern Review, and other magazines. ---------
Demonstration in the Study
After Cesar Vallejo
They were talking in hysterical voices
on the far side of the room:
“We want him to do a hand stand
on one finger.” What they were asking
was impossible. “We want him to recite
Augustine, in Mandarin, through his tears.”
Truly what they wanted
was the impossible. “We want him
to fly around the room and land on the table
or something.” What the French call
impossible. “We want a blood sacrifice
before he writes a single word.”
Now it was just plain unreasonable.
“Okay, okay, we want him to write poetry
wearing a ski mask.” At least
they were making it interesting.
“We want the mask to just float there
and for the words to appear without any hands.”
Clever bastards.
Sentimental
You pull out the toy magnifying glass
from a box of dry cereal.
You pull it out, so now
there are no prizes in the cereal box.
You walk outside
in a blaze of noonday sun
where you set a piece of toilet paper on fire,
make an ant smoke,
like the head of a burnt-out match,
then look up at me,
laughing your fat face off.