Fumbling a Potato on a Train in Albania (Kent MacCarter)

Posted on April 19, 2011 by in Heightened Talk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.

Yanked crisply

into movement

like a trout

caught napping …

on judgement – its arcs

the cartoon reel

I suited up in

inadvertently

that all-aboard morning

warbled groggily

through credits …

of Albanian dawn

credits of sparrows

crank-wheeled

and lured our carriage

clean into scene

one

 

2.

Dead-bang at six

a resolute

mechanical

holy-Christ! of a halt

eschewing regional bolt-

action rifles

blushing hot

with usurp

Our carriage, then owning

the daybreak

owning the split

thighs under silence

how a track-and-field star

hurdling electrons

trips fission

in a sequence

of takes

 

3.

Field workers

grandmothers

and field

clogged the steps up

pylon mirages

warped into locals

on approach

load-bearing baskets

cucurbits and rabbits

figs

a full-cotton Haj

lured to orbit

and board government

tracks (or Kadare’s vomit)

conducted by intervals

in burn-times

of Greek cigarettes

 

4.

My compartment …

settled to ours

a colonialism

loud in reverse

a land-grab peeled

how celeriacs

enforce

in quiet bonanza

of repatriated

comfort

my knees

double-booked

into shelf

a morning’s box

of waxy potatoes

got teetered

one tumbled out

lured by floorspace

two dozen eyes

located on radar

it scrambled by feet

 

5.

Atop my head

windswept by physics

equated as ledger

I marooned it

fluent in numerator

this fraction of spud

vertiginously game

on its balance

of comic relief

interlocutor of me

greyer than bricks

top comrade Hoxha

lured into these guts

but not greyer than maybe

one lone halved-potato

a reinforced barracks

that glissando instructs

succinctly our tone

slid up to grin

a foreigner’s Vaudeville

primed to maintain

 

Tags: