Steven Fortune


Chain me to a parable
with sinews of plot
ambiguity and circumstance
Maybe cut the cables of
this broken down elevator
rigidly encasing my contracting
individuality for the occasion
Others are beginning to mistake
this expression for a uniform
To expired constitutions
I’m beginning to conform
Resolutions situate between
cosmetic and forlorn
Chain me to a parable
Lacerate the leathery chicanes of
recycled minutes harping on
the clockwork waves
of my addled but attuned
idiosyncratic routine
Chain me to a parable
before the poems start
to coagulate like an infantry
of revelations on the poet’s solved
social rampart

Revolution Encore

And the boardwalk
already pierced with the pilgrims
of its ceremony
unbuttoned by the night
flashing ribs of naked planks
in piano reverence
eager for the fingers of the sun
to forge harmony
from preordained destiny’s
monotone hum
in distraction
for reverse syncopation
Outliers and benchmarks
hand in hand
No plans alive to make
save the salvage of disjointed