A
PLACE TO WRITE
by Michael Keshigian
Was I born to the
taste of whiskey and ale
only to discover
the warped creativity of language
it instigated as I
worked
amid the
smoke-stained scent of self-indulgence
while the noise
elevated
and I wrote, deaf
to it all,
my solitude
imagined, I scribbled sentences
with pencil and
pad,
immersed in that
comfort of
poetic
architecture
pursued amid chaos
and chatter,
my inebriated,
perhaps meaningless
house of cards
etched atop
a spilled whiskey
stain,
though this evening,
I swore to myself
to prevail,
soaking my lips
with froth and
foam
upon the iron
stool
beneath the open
rafters of the tavern,
feeling
accomplished and relieved,
my words shading
the page
upon the stain,
pleased when the
seemingly coherent rant
concluded and
released my focus,
allowing my stupor
to permeate,
streaks of light
from the streetlamps
illuminating the
sheet
as well as
reflecting the confluence of drunks
and their slurred
conversation.
For interminable
minutes I listened
to the gibberish of
couples,
to the
monosyllabic complaints of the miserable,
and to the sobbing
woman’s voice,
pitched like a
coloratura without melodic inflection
until I jumped
upon the table
and began to
recite from my tableau,
speaking blunt,
unpolished words
as loud as
possible, outside myself,
barely conscious
of my enthusiasm
while I hinged and
slurred the vowels
and slapped my ass
to enunciate punctuation.
Then it was over,
I was out
and suddenly naked
at my desk,
writing feverishly
to recreate
the episode I may
only have imagined.
Michael Keshigian is the author of 14 poetry collections, his
most recent, What to Do With Intangibles, from Cyberwit.net. His
work has appeared in numerous national and international journals as well as
many online publications, including California Quarterly, Chiron
Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, San Pedro River Review, Oak
Bend Review, and Sierra Nevada Review. He is a seven-time
Pushcart Prize and three-time Best Of The Net nominee.
