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The Making of a Key
The Making of a Key
The Making of a Key
Ebook152 pages35 minutes

The Making of a Key

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This is a book of poems and songs. Oh, I threw in a cocktail recipe of my own invention toward the end. Maybe look at that first, mix the drink, have a seat, and start reading. I can't promise much. Very subjective stuff here; however, the drink recipe is top-notch. Read the poems, sing the songs, drink the drink, then let me know how you feel.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherLulu.com
Release dateSep 27, 2018
ISBN9780359119721
The Making of a Key

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    Book preview

    The Making of a Key - Dustin Drennen

    DEDICATION

    To my wife, who indulges and encourages me in all of my strange ways.

    PREFACE

    My thoughts on this volume are few. I’d prefer it to speak for itself. If I have one objection, it is that my poems don’t display enough of my sense of humor. For that reason, I’ve included the following insight, a recent reflection of mine. I only hope you can take me seriously hereafter.

    To keep a book of poetry in the bathroom seems like ghastly behavior. But, I do. I read more poetry because of it. In fact, I find there is no better time to entertain my senses with this superb art form.

    I am amused at the thought that someone may someday read my most intimate observations of life and self while on the toilet. I’ve also considered the objections of other poets, some dead. What might they think if they knew (and perhaps some do) I read their work from the most humble of seats?

    I’ve read poetry in all the right places: on moonlit nights, on mountains, in the first glimmer of sunlight that chases the morning chill out of the meadow. I’ve read to myself, to my children, to women, into a microphone, aloud in a circle, even while I danced and flailed. These days, I favor reading quietly while I relieve myself.

    I look forward to daily meeting with mentors and fellow poets. I do apologize for summoning them in my bathroom. It should not be considered any indication of the value I place on their work.

    -D. July 12th, 2018; Clark Fork, ID

    A PRAYER

    Keep my heart

    a tender organ,

    back upright and strong,

    hands working out some good thing,

    mind filed to a point and piercing mysteries,

    face set hard,

    like flint,

    Toward my purpose.

    SPIRITS

    The door rests open

    My floors, clean swept

    All the lights glow

    An invitation

    My house is ripe

    With song

    And merry-making

    THE NAMES

    Out of the inkwell,

    And like a cat clawing,

    I pray the names:

    Six I love,

    Five other than myself,

    Four, the names of my children.

    It’s been three days,

    I think.

    There are two calendar dates I would change

    And one name I hate.

    Not the one

    you think.

    -Strange what we hate

    Consumes

    us, defines

    us as much as what we love.

    Yet, indifference is not freedom,

    only the absence of feeling.

    CHANGEOVER

    this place is

    dark & light

    I am Jeckyll

    & I am Ulysses

    Transformation,

    insufficient time

    for small talk

    ANNEAL

    Forged,

    Muscles, sinews, and joints,

    New fired and quenched.

    I stretch over the earth

    Cooling to ambient temperature.

    In the red-yellow gradient of daybreak

    I try my form,

    Singular as a tiger,

    Unrivaled in my way.

    Doomed and gleaming

    I go.

    TRAIN

    Rolling through a dark

    corridor of evergreens

    The moon, she flickers

    Like a failing fluorescent

    Still, pale and charming

    I am at ease beneath her.

    Then, the belly of

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