Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Malzbier by Jakob Chapman

crisp cold pop
of the bottle cap
rolls across the floor

Monday evening
tie undone
hole in sock
toe hanging out
dew forming
between fingers

liquid bread
coldly warming
my insides
big bang
in my head
the universe
proclaiming truth
in these words:

"and barley
for all
useful animals
and for mild drinks"

peaceful risk
foamy head
eve of freedom
have another
then off
to bed

This poem is currently under contest consideration.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Noncommittal: A Definition by Jakob Chapman

I never knew she wore glasses
before she followed me out the door
after class;

her slow but steady
intention heavy
way of posing
queries about my motives
behind not noticing the leaves
turning corners,
misguided fall reaction,
unable to find a place
where a leaf has not already fallen
resting where I now stand
wishing it were spring,
warm and rotten,
like an apple you don’t see
until you are picking it out
from between your bare toes,
trying to tell yourself
that it really isn’t so bad
being the only one
who thinks that life is too long
just to sit around
messing with words
until they mean what you think they mean,

but she just smiled,
unaware of what exactly
she was asking me to do,
thinking that life is a long song
or a passionate play
to which I am cast,
but I shake my head
but she just smiled,
having shown her hand
and I wish the sleeves
of all girls
would be as soiled
with their animal opinions

and I reply,
“maybe I see you there.”

Monday, January 28, 2008

Paint By Numbers by Jakob Chapman

Inspired by Lana Grow’s "Catch the Rhythm, Join the Party"

We paint in packs
the way others might party
(without parental "super-vision")
secretly splashing pigment
on each other’s paintings
when they are not paying

Distract a neighbor
while the sable brush
of another flicks
a shower of sparkles,
glittering globs of gold,
flying tincture murder,
or just a bad case
of Montezuma’s

And watch
as the hand-guided
maquillage blooms
(like an atomic blusher),
and drips down
the oily foresail surface
like a projectiled
ovum accident
caught on candid

Join the party;
play the blame game:
who did what where
as we regard
the rumba’d rhythmicity
of botched realism,
and jive jovially
toward artistic

Consider it foul
(if you will call
it anything at all)
artistic sabotage
mingled with
mischievous multi-chromatic

But at least it is
still recognizably

This poem won the 2007 ARCC Connecting With Art Poetry Contest and was featured in the 2007 Rapids Review. This poem is currently under contest consideration.

Loose Change by Jakob Chapman

rolls away
tumbling down spinning
glint in her eye
strike the pavement
reflect the sun
summer day
losing basketball
and falling
from so high
she strikes the pavement
rolls away