Wednesday, December 27, 2023

Sensory Overload

 —Poetry by Sterling Warner, Union, Washington
—Art Courtesy of Public Domain 


Body bent over the stove     preparing a omelet
Andromeda’s chipped nails poked through      
fingerless gloves
grasping spatulas   serving spoons   pasta strainers

peeling potatoes   Andromeda scraped her knuckle
on a cheese grater     but never missing a beat
as a domestic goddess     to be worshipped and

brothers and sisters     critiqued her seasonings
prizing     her crispy red peppers in particular
not one to disappoint    she allowed them to bicker

each food connoisseur     a pseudo aficionado     
for rock chain approval     while Andromeda     
nibbled cuticles     
admired her gothic digits     munched on     flaky
crimson polish

I.    Hyperstimulation

Lights out, alarms non-responsive,
blacken galaxies devoid of nightglow
provide no starry compass, awareness,
or sense of belonging; sudden sirens blare,
aircraft signals shimmer and shine above
resembling the London blitzkrieg
busting humanity’s seams physically,
intellectually, as neighborhoods radiate
Las Vegas splendor & guarded secrets.

II.    Conical Squeeze     

21st century wicked witches prefer burial
under assorted yarn to skyfall Kansas farmhouses;
flat on their backs, their magic instincts
remain intact, ebon and white leotards
clean, vibrant, void of runs, ruby sequin
slippers unhampered yet overwhelmed
by so called progress; there  primary hybrid,
native, and social apps defy complacency
crush Glinda and Theodora without prejudice.

III.    Barista

Hairless hobbit fingers pinch a white porcelain
coffee cup, its miniature handle smaller than a
doughnut hole, daring any index finger—halfling,
human, or elf to piece the small aperture, curl
around the knob & touch one’s thumb creating
a perfect circle; lifting the vessel towards lips
puffed, prepared, anxious to partake the “cafe corvo,”
the barista draws java to her open mouth, inhaling
of steamy expresso, savoring orange chocolate &

IV.    Umiak Sunset

Alone in a kayak my double-sided paddle
strokes a liquid mirror; blades break the glassy,
placid calm of Lake Vivian as they slice
through the medium, displace water, create troughs.
Most fellow mariners nod, others curse as they pass
alongside me in catamarans, trawlers, sailboats,
cruisers, and canoes as my vessel’s hydrodynamic
turbulence sends wake after wake, left to right
surging, lapping, ebbing, rocking undulating port
and starboard bows.

V.     Metamorphosis   

Sights, sounds, touches, tastes, odors
cannot converge, contain, or overcome bodies
momentarily revived like living dead walking
amid a corporeal onslaught; crossing arms
express attitude, fight off more than chills,
piercing glances perceive mysteries beyond
literal revelations, acknowledge objects
& creatures once ignored, celebrate reborn senses
that emerge from an epiphany’s chrysalis. 


geminid showers
december skies set ablaze
night tar on fire

Black Friday constellation rushes
overhead like consumer comets
chasing a once in lifetime
rare galaxy extravaganza—
shooting stars that cross our path
with brisk determination deprive
our opportunity to wish upon a future
where fireball trains flare
across the cosmos,
lifting its tail like a skunk
teasing, flirting, denying us
the purity and promise found
in an intergalactic time capsule.


Today’s LittleNip:

Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.

—Stephen King,
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft


—Medusa, welcoming Sterling Warner back to the Kitchen today, with thanks for his fine poetry! More can be seen of Sterling and his poetry books at 
 Sterling Warner

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