New Poems! (Pt III)

The Mechanics of Handstands

The impulse today is to walk

the block and a half from my house

to the southside of Colonial Lake

and do handstands.

Handstands, to be done properly,

require a few moments of quiet contemplation

before they are begun. Do this

on a sun-drowned green bench, shirtless,

sweating.

It is so loud here.

Left ear:

a lawn mower and a backpack-mounted leaf blower and a family playing and a game of tennis and a girl talking to her puppy.

Right ear:

birds.

The loud is good. It lets you center,

whines and cycles together through you,

drowns everything but the mechanics of handstands.

For the moment it is enough to bake under the sun. Let

sweat fill every inch of clothing, run over your face

and bare chest, all of it irritating, all of it alive.

When you have had enough of looking at the sky and the large military cargo airplanes screaming over the city, stand up.

Take off your shoes,

Empty pockets.

Stand barefoot in the soft summer grass,

bend at the waist to fill your fingers with the ground. This is the proper handstand position,

ready.

Breathe, and in a rush kick your legs up and catch your face as it falls forward. Flex your arms and tighten stomach and stretch up.

Breathe and wait for the sky to come down and be your new floor.

Stay this way

as long as you can.