Scott Minar


Corrupted Image - Poem by Scott Minar

Like a comedian in a labor camp,
I work hard not to be noticed.
The mathematician tells me not to
play music in my sleep. His bunk
is outdoors, a window-box for stars.
When they fall on him, he thinks
he's on fire. Put yourself out, Copernicus,
we mutter, and he goes back to sleep.
Cradling chairs like a guitar
I croon something at the moon.
It has a fine ear and spreads itself
around like a larger audience.
A last mouse, the opera star,
sings snow out of her mouth.
Two more months of this,
and even the wind will stop
flirting with me.


Poet's Notes about The Poem

An inner world picture

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Poem Edited: Wednesday, June 25, 2014


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