A Mad Gardener’s Quartet He thought he saw a G.I. Joe With Kung-Fu plastic Grip: He looked again, and found it was A lone, bedraggled Pip. “I’ll fast alert Miss Havisham— Or Gladys!” (he did quip). He thought he saw his High School Coach With twenty shit-faced drunks: He looked again, and found it was Max Roach, in bathing trunks. “I saw that cat in ’62, At Coltrane’s place, or Monk’s.” He thought he saw a Cordless Phone That wouldn’t fully charge: He looked again, and found it was The funkster El DeBarge. “I’m not sure funkster’s on the mark; A crooner, by and large.” He thought he saw a Lot of Nothing Vanish in a Hole: He looked again, and found it was— God’s honest truth—his Soul. “It turns up at the oddest times; It’s nothing I control.”
Cody Walker is the author of three poetry collections, all from the Waywiser Press. His work appears in The New York Times Magazine, The Yale Review, Poetry Northwest, and The Best American Poetry. He lives in Michigan and directs the Bear River Writers’ Conference.