Poetry Issue 1
David Barker
Chowder
this restaurant is
famous for their
clam chowder but
actually, it's only
so-so, mostly
potatoes and a few
bits of clam, and
the place is noisy
as hell, constant
clanging of dishes
and silverware, the
tables crowded with
slurping tourist
families and other
families waiting for
their meal, and
behind all the noise,
screeching radio music --
maybe it's classic rock,
hard to say, but it's
too much, I wish
they'd turn it off. no-
body can be listening,
and I'm watching a
horrific scene, a
grotesque old woman
with purple hair,
scarfing up her chowder
and rocking like an
idiot. I turn away to
see one pure thing:
a young mother
feeding her baby
mushed vegetables,
the baby liking
every spoonful
far more than
anyone enjoys the
chowder.
Waste
1.
that which was
pristine,
remains pristine.
that which was
holy,
remains holy.
2.
god takes what
fools pass by.
and the best among them
is wasted.
it seems obscene to
call this purity.
3.
and I feel like
burning,
destroying,
lamenting
all that is beautiful
in this sad creation.
David Barker is a widely published poet and short story writer whose work has been published in dozens of books and chapbooks since the 1970s. His recent collections of poetry include Lunch Hour Poems (Bottle Of Smoke Press, 2004), Too Much Me (Concrete Meat Press, 2005) and You'll Go Blameless (Golden Posterity Press, 2009.) In 2002, Bottle of Smoke Press published his fiction collection, Stories From The Brink. His work has appeared in many literary magazines and anthologies in the U. S. and abroad. David lives with his wife in Oregon and works as a research analyst.
