the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana » roommate

An unlit firecracker decomposing in an underwear drawer

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

fire spells relief
shimmering in the night sky–
if I’d just eat or kiss or maybe even belong
I
‘d be happy.
running from entertainment every Friday,
opportunities to bless, to leave Jesus behind
treading where I’ve tread before,
yes, circular””but not waiting for you to depress
I
t r a n s v e r s e a translucent chord:
the roommate invites to talk with the room-less in smoky bars,
the friend invites to watch the movie about camaraderie,
alone, hugging myself with artistry
desperate to produce
a great life
I
write.

One dog sniffs – a poet’s calling

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

One dog sniffs the other’s behind,
“You artistic?” he asks.

no hiding, let’s follow our noses:
{Adultery in the reception line}
ignored””the best man wants to hug the bride.
{Hell in the visitation line}
ignored””the mother collapses on the casket.

my roommate sometimes smells my children
“What’s the raison de etre of your joie de vivre,” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply,
“but it sure sounded like a female in a men’s restroom:
good and frightening.”