Frog Meets Sweater
After “Frogments From the Frag Pool” by Gary Barwin and Derek Beaulieu.
Frog tries on a turtleneck,
it fits swimmingly.
Later, he puts his foot
in a pool, takes it back out
shakes the water off
mindful of his new apparel,
thinking:
Not my bowl of biscuits.
He hops away,
he hops back,
then dives straight into the pool –
weighted down
by merchandise.
He appeals to an opossum
who shrugs their shoulders
then gestures at their size.
He appeals to his landlord
who asks the soggy top as payment.
When all else fails
he spots his ex-boyfriend, Badger,
who pulls him out only to slide him back again.
This time Frog catches the pool’s edge
with one foot, then another.
Before long backtracking
to the store
when he can’t make a return,
Sends that rat-racoon hybrid
who served him
Sailing out of a cannon.
Tuesday, March 26th, 2019
After Chris Banks’s poem “Lay Believers of the Metaphysical”
The odd one out doesn’t have to worry about
getting in. Papers line the streets, but if you steal
some scissors and duct tape then a pair of shoes can
be made. Follow us back to the main hall,
beverages will be offered at entrance three. Accept
a drink. Idle. Beat on the glass and it’ll sound like
the window washers are at it again, insufferably. It’s
warm at this banquet – are foie gras and phyllo
triangles suitable apps for an “end of the world
party?” The lights go out, but the show permeates
all cortexes. We’ll forget those left behind before
telling stories and dancing by fire. For a brief
period in time there will be free admittance to all –
the rich will fuck the poor in the same boat. Once
power is restored, each community will have their
own productions that will tell of past prophecies
that fulfilled themselves. Don’t worry, each
performance changes in tone drastically before
collapsing on itself. The people of the world will
yawn before going home. Eat without brushing their
teeth afterward. Bite their nails during the morning
commute instead of listening to an audiobook.
Arrive on the job site. Draw haphazardly on their
tablets before making the same mistakes over again.
Suicide will continue to rise in all age brackets.
Workshops will continue to cater to one kind of
learner. We’ll triumph over the past while also
mismanaging our education system. The weary
who hard-knuckle with their illnesses faceplant in
the mare’s nest, ignored.
Samuel Strathman @_strathman_ is a poet, author, and educator. Some of his poems have appeared in Train, Dusie, Talking About Strawberries All of the Time, and others. His first chapbook, “In Flocks of Three to Five” will be released in spring of 2020 by Anstruther Press. He lives in Toronto, Ontario with his two cats, Archie and China.
Robert Frede Kenter @frede_kenter is the publisher of Ice Floe Press and co-editor of “Geographies” and “New Works” projects for the press. He is a writer, editor and visual artist with work published widely in Canada, the US, UK, & Australia.
Drawing (and banner) by Robert Frede Kenter Title: Sneaking Away Before it Even Begins (2020), For Samuel Strathman.
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