My Future In Khatmandu
MY FUTURE IN KHATMANDU
The old man read my palm
shook his head
and sighed.
You shall have no power, he declared.
Excuse me?
No power, he repeated.
No power and no children.
No power, no children and a short life.
Dust half as old as Jesus
fell silently around us
and water streamed
From sculpted elephant trunks.
Everest ignored us.
Massive tectonic plates
just below grumbled.
The old man had power.
I had none.
No children either.
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poem by Burgess Needle
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My Brother Once Had A Job
MY BROTHER ONCE HAD A JOB
My brother once had a job
Standing day after day
Before enormous scanning devices
Recording the past for the future.
My brother once had a job
Placing large volumes face down
Page by page to be lit and copied
Digitizing brittle sheets into binary code
My brother once had a job
Operating
Optical character scanners
Capturing every word of every page
My brother once had a job
Where he worked alongside
A Mi’kmaq Indian who believed
They were stealing souls
And when they were finished
That would signify the end of time
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poem by Burgess Needle
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Square Water
SQUARE WATER
When the bus collapsed on the road
To the capital
A man in blue opened the hood
And spit at the engine
While off to the side
Down a rough slope
Was a square cut body of water
Neutral and calm for all:
Water buffalo, children and dogs.
A radiantly happy girl is climbing out.
The buffalo gaze over at two men
In white pith helmets and black clothes
Who seem to be digging a hole.
A bicycle is parked between the children
And the men
The water is roiled by swimmers
Splashing in the brown liquid.
Bruegel should have been there
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poem by Burgess Needle
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