Chromium poem by Janet Kuypers

Chromium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series

Closing the door
to my stainless steel refrigerator,
I thought about the popularity
of stainless steel;
everyone wants to get
stainless steel fronts
for all of their kitchen appliances.
Costs more at the store,
but that’s the price for looking good.

So I thought, stainless steel,
okay, what is that, iron?
But my wrought iron bed frame
and sets of candle holders
are pretty much black,
some of it’s rusting,
so what do they do
to make this iron a shiny,
different kind of metal?

I looked online
and the answer
was 24.
Not 42, not the meaning of life,
but the atomic number.

You know, when I turned 24 at work,
our rep from our press called me,
and I told him it was my birthday.
So he asked me how old I was,
and I said 42.
He sounded surprised, so I told him,
“Oh, you didn’t ask me
how old I felt.
I’m 24.”

But really, chromium
is atomic element number 24,
and to make stainless steel
they add over ten percent
of chromium to the iron to form
a steel alloy that doesn’t corrode.
(Good thing
my refrigerator
won’t rust…)

So maybe it’s the
magnetic properties of chromium
that make this metal so appealing
to people now…
But this protective element
has protected weaponry
from Chinese dynasties
thousands of years ago,
so the Chinese knew,
even then,
that coating things with
this magnetic metallic element
would stop corrosion.

I mean, we’ve all heard
of things that are
chrome plated, right?
Chromium not only makes things
last longer, but
chromium is also known for
its luster when polished —
which really makes
for a great sell.
Just go to any hangout
for motorcyclists,
probably on any summer
Sunday morning,
and see the parked line-up
of one motorcycle after another,
each outdoing each other
with decorative chrome plating…

But then I thought…
Chromium’s even used
as chrome yellow dye
for school buses…
Chromium salts are used
for wood preservatives
and tanning leather…
The refractory applications
of chromium even work
for blast furnaces, cement kilns,
molds for the firing of bricks
and also for the casting of metals.

I guess chromium can really
extend the life
of what we see around us…
So I guess it’s fitting
that when my birthday
coincided with this element,
I jokingly said
that the number in question
was actually the answer
to life, the universe,
and everything…

Search Artvilla

Loading


Categories Uncategorized

Egyptian Book of the Dead and Viagra Poem

green alien photoIn ancient times also

there were mind explorers,

body worshipers,

disappointments to their mothers.

 

When time was a blessing

on a too tight rope

they were initiated into

the hearts of baboons.

 

Offerings above, please.

Bodies below.

 

As the dead sun sleeps

in the netherworld each night

spirits return to their mummies.

Ancestors pray.

May their bones be knit together,

their members be made firm.

 

Belinda Subraman

Tribute to Ginsburg Poem by John Horvath Jr

Pagan Interlude

——————————————————————————–

Subliminal messages over the megaphone
There is a Dan handler in aisle ThreeB:
The gay grocer has a hard-on stacking cucumbers
is a cliche’ for the ‘nineties at the end of millennium
and Goddamn him Ginsburg’s still dead
How we could use his immoral word
in this titpasties pastiche of a world
that passes postmodern
in this postmedieval life
I love the cool fresh breath of Spring’s kiss
in the midst of winter’s foul blasts
That was Sarah said that
remember her
she was the woman I might have married
or had married couldn”t remember which
who haunts my daydreams
or the mother who never was
lost mother of a generation.
Ginsburg– described in one obit
as “that small gay jewish poet”–
would not be the kind
to leave his beloved behind.
And, folks, the special today is poets and puns, at sixth sense a pound
Cheaper than pastrami– somewhat Italian, dark eyes, almond skin.

The who-picks-this-shit-linoleum manager
is on the loudspeaker in his gray tweed jacket
and deck-shoe best speaking of his desk job life
unraveling as he speaks
He is reading HOWL
amid the gasps and shrieks
of little suburbanite ladies
pissing their Depends as he reads
He is thinking this his last act before AK
bursts while he rampages through the Saturday
morning Parking Lot where I heft bags into the Volvo
Chips and Dips for Superbowl Sunday
All of us playing that gig
lined up against the others
pushing toward goalposts
pigskins of our sons and our daughters
inflated past recognition

The universe of poetry is a goddamn
wormhole without Ginsburg who’s still
very much dead
Though middleclass kids
and suburban punks
can still read.

——————————————————————————–
Bio: Chicagoan, educated in the American South (PhD), John Horvath Jr has been a steel mill mechanic, soldier, street poet, and professor of literature and criticism. His most recent books include Illiana Region Poems: Harboring the Enemy (from Zebooks http://www.blquanbeck.com/zebookcompany/) and CONUS: the First Tour Chapbook, new and collected poetry of war . Disabled in a parachute accident, Horvath edits Mississippi”s PoetryRepairShop – Contemporary International Poetry (since 1997) and writes.

***

Duck Hunting Poem by John Horvath Jr

HOOSIER DUCK HUNTING

Green headed beasts have few functions

In society.

The warm autumn

Migrations over the Little Calumet and the Kankakee,

Twenty-four birds flashing victory “V” in the sky,

Hundreds of reed-like barrels pointing heavenward.

The smell of the Little Calumet

With the hapless hungry stuck in slime,

The sewerage, the burnt flesh dried

To the hot, the deceptive slag of steel mills

Smoking, apparently swamp gas, morning haze

To a weary winged duck.

Ducks in the waters of the Kankakee

Visiting briefly where hounds pull apart

Bodies shot by three or more hunters

Who come annually to quarrel over mallards,

Canadians, often even swans, hawks and doves.

(Daddy, can I be a hunter? I asked

Long before the stench of war and empathy

For bewildered ducks bobbing in the waters

Of the Little Calumet and the Kankakee.)

There is a certain time, a certain reward,

A certain mystique in the killing of ducks

Not for food but for pleasure. It is a way

To demonstrate the natural order of freedom or

Captivity. The killing of ducks is allegory,

A lesson: were it not for the hunter, the hunted

Would die in the midst of its living–the weaker,

The slower, the lame and the halt, the sibilant,

The coward, the infamous would survive.

(Daddy, can I be a hunter? I asked

Long before the stench of war and empathy

For bewildered beasts bobbing in the waters

Of the Little Calumet and the Kankakee.)

No, son, my grandfather would say:

Green headed beasts have few functions

In society.

copyright John Horvath Jr

John Horvath Jr.
is a Chicagoan living in Mississippi, a disabled veteran, and a professor in literature and criticism. Since the late 1960s, he has performed his poetry in Munich, London, and across the U.S; his poetry appears in print (e.g. Nimrod and Antigonish Review) and online (e.g. Ariga [Israel] and Isibongo [SA]).
Links: PoetryRepairShop , editor, and his bibliography at [ http://www.horvath.ws ].
On writers: “I’m an eclectic reader: S.T. Coleridge, T.S. Eliot, and Dylan Thomas alongside Akhmatova, Juhasz and Petofi, also Whitman, Ginsberg, and Ferlinghetti. Favorites change over time.”
On writing: The biographical, not autobiographical, and social narratives are a strong influence. Plato said that poetry endangers the established order of the soul; I write from “inside the sinner” where poetry exercises empathy and sympathy, renders the observed more open to discussion, more human, and perhaps more dignified. My technique is sprung or ‘ruptured’ rhythm: ideas are written in pen, revised into traditional metric/rhyme schemes (not necessarily English), then revised into free verse/lyrical form.”
Recent Poetry: Ygdrasil, Moongate, Lynx, Charlotte’s Web, and Ixion.

***