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Poetry Hound Male, 60, United States (4/14/2005 11:05:00 AM)

Adam Reynolds posted this August Kleinzahler poem the other day in the other forum, but it was lost in the torrent of epithets. I'm reposting it because I think it is terrific. It is filled with the imagery of movement. Adam said it is 'a nice critique of capitalism and the stock markets, ' but I think it could just as easily be read as a celebration of the marketplace. I confess the final stanza throws me for a loop. Anyone have a theory on what it means?


The Strange Hours Travelers Keep

The markets never rest
Always they are somewhere in agitation
Pork bellies, titanium, winter wheat
Electromagnetic ether peppered with photons
Treasure spewing from Unisys A-15 J mainframes
Across the firmament
Soundlessly among the thunderheads and passenger jets
As they make their nightlong journeys
Across the oceans and steppes

Nebulae, incandescent frog spawn of information
Trembling in the claw of Scorpio
Not an instant, then shooting away
Like an enormous cloud of starlings

Garbage scows move slowly down the estuary
The lights of the airport pulse in morning darkness
Food trucks, propane, tortured hearts
The reticent epistemologist parks
Gets out, checks the curb, reparks
Thunder of jets
Peristalsis of great capitals

How pretty in her tartan scarf
Her ruminative frown
Ambiguity and Reason
Locked in a slow, ferocious tango
Of if not, why not

-August Kleinzahler

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  • Rookie Aldo Kraas (1/27/2007 1:19:00 AM) Post reply
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    Excelent poem

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