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Insoluble Mirage

By Thomas Piekarski

PROMPT — I will not rest until ...

Reaching the regal nonesuch came aflutter

swarms of wasps crying out for his mother.

Excitants wafted everywhere to my delight

of course since I wasn’t in a mood to fight.

Rent from a deathly intangible I’d deplore

the dusty elf at leisure upon a golden shore.

He handed over a brain of clay then left me

sitting on a field of pink flame plenty teary.

What meretricious waves swept past I dare

say couldn’t be detected unless the despair

reach some animated nadir beyond my ken

which would render me clueless as to when

repentance for the forgetfulness I admitted

fruitfully emerged on a path since remitted

to the multitude of tides and effervescence

a world wherein any mindful resplendence

be impossible and so decision a new thing

popped into my mind as an innate tinkling.

Then trepidation of a nation fallen so sadly

air impregnated with almost every malady

known before or after man tread our planet

tangled in an atmosphere grinding granite

to build flimsy castles and rational dreams

that would reel off their mystical streams.

You speed demon boiling up the interstate

you’re nothing more than an old reprobate

irrupted by addiction to perpetual blunder

a scant psychism amid tumultuous thunder.

When the king kissed his queen she dipped

her lip onto the cup of sins then he flipped

his wig which was conjoined by a neutrino

ferried forth on anthracite wings incognito.


Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry has appeared in such publications as Poetry Quarterly, Literature Today, Poetry Salzburg, South African Literary Journal, Modern Literature, and others. His books of poetry are Ballad of Billy the Kid, Monterey Bay Adventures, Mercurial World, and Aurora California. He writes from Sacramento, CA.


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