A Salute To All Things Rapid Poem by Walt Ostrander

Throwing as if sinking
Like methylethylflotsamjetsam
Boiling yellow liquid
Smells of death and malted
Time; glowing trainwrecks
Sliding sideways (wrongways)
Sorting sordid situations for
Afternoon parties
Old women holding drinks larger than their windowpanes
Raise one arm to their brows in honorable appreciation of
The sweat that’s laid claim to them.
It’s a measure of being clever in the
Entangled alphabet of a reasonable species
Spouting things in orders they’re not normally scene
(Or homonymal hymnals are thrown at you from the altar)
“What’s in a poem? A verse by any other noise would still play
Tricks with my conscience.”
Adios.