MATERIALS: Brother EP-41 Electronic Typewriter (1983), thermal paper, red pen
underneath the sternum, lives a jet turbine engine assigned designated driver
valves and ventricles replaced with a motor which pours the bubbling-hot whine of Urgency into a cocktail glass (some say is) permanently overflowing
as a result,
spilling dripping desperation works its way throughout the body
down at the racetrack training ring
the horse bucks and throws me off
again, again, again, again—i know myself.
i know i’ll climb on again the moment i hit the sand
it screams and cries ballistic but the noise tunes itself out
since for some time now, giving up feels worse than death
eyes darting bright with fear. im up in the air then face to the dirt
the horse kicks me and i get back on the horse again
prone to ignoring injury, tolerating bloody noses, working through shattered bones
mouth froths; lathering. it fights the bit but i get back on that painful ride without rest until its a miracle i can stand long enough to deposit myself into the saddle once more
must be an engines curse, the error arising if it doesnt know how to quit even when flaming out
doesnt know that just because i Can climb back on
just because i Can take it
just because i Can throw myself at something a thousand times and fail each and every one, still willing to throw myself a thousand times more,
doesnt mean i Should.
what i shouldve done is learned how to take a break 20 falls ago.
note: being manufactured does not resign you to accept yourself as “machine;
unchanging in performance due to the nature of its design”
so, when a postcard brings you the news
“tomorrow the jockeys will wake up at 5, the fog rolling in
they’ll head down to practice
bleary eyes soothed with sounds of
birdsong, the brushing of leather, the tack being put on
it will take them awhile to realize
they cant remember the last time
they met an ambiance of peaceful quiet morning.
tomorrow,
anyone who checks will find the ring empty”
it’s a nice painting on the front, i hope it makes you smile
THE CORRECTIONS IMAGE
contains marks in red ink pen. paragraphs 1 and 3 are marked 1A & 1B respectively. connected by a drawn bracket on the side. paragraph 2 is marked 2. note is marked note. the conclusion has a dotted line around it, emphasizing how its formatted like a postcard. the lines “tomorrow, anyone who checks will find the ring empty.” has a bracket between the lines, with an arrow from beneath it drawn up marking it “DEDICATION? APOLOGY?”. the last line has a small dash before it like a signature. throughout the poem red rectangles have been drawn to indicate breaks between certain sentences or lines. longer pauses are indicated with a circle at the end. the all caps line THE HORSE KICKS ME AND I GET BACK ON THE HORSE AGAIN is underlined, as is the line “must be an engine’s curse.” a mistyping from the typewriter on the second line of paragraph 2 has been X’d out (the word it’s). “desperation” has an arrow pointing down to the next line, emphasizing it working its way throughout the body. the last line of paragraph 1B has an arrow pointing up, emphasizing how it should have come sooner, as a step or choice made by the narrator.