Tap Poem by Howard Steng

wanting

fortune and men’s eyes (... depth, a sculptured Ryman canvas) he imagined
the big bang must have eclipsed auspiciously, the secret diagram

smiles fixating on sermons (only A. would know) [laughter and bad lands] – hendiadys

uncaged giant hits – “is this your husband? ! ” Of course lips pulse, the ring wearing one too – birthday, hockey... “score! ”

when Apollo eleven landed, executive overflow caused alarm, an “a” was dropped, and the first imprint left a wavy flag, and they did.

whoever brought him an apple and tea did not know they aren’t good for anyone – it’s like a spot of rain on a empty canvas
that is remembered

and he sat on a lake bench ([ A. could say it]) piercing
the air for an escape, a voiced illusion. A fifty cent return
on twenty (could be legal, shouldn’t be) sent to the dead-letter office,

cold over the blind store owner, cheapening deals. He watched astronauts
in fantastic slurs
and left the remainder