Texas Poetry Magazine
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Published December 23, 2018

The Connection of Lights

by David Bankson

This is how it is now, a bandage
on bone, a spirit unbroken. Woman
and man as mineral water. A door repaired.
The individual whimper as a specific stillness
preceded by anxiety.

                                    Sun-white morning,
original silence. Light ejecting from
an honesty mechanism. Earlier, constructed sand
and a creek pebble - the misunderstanding
of a natural creation. A river. A repulse.

Down goes the shovel. The song
in the heart abandoning the significance
of the dry, the untwisting of the corkscrew,
the disconnected stopper. A lost cause.
The ascent of big-city lights.



Fall

by David Bankson

Fall is too far from trivial.

The explicit 'all,'
too overstated for the illicit.

When a flushed feeling trivializes the leaves,
British call it 'autumn.'

Take up
the gray-green groups.
Take in the restraint of the abridged.

Autumn was the real scarcity.
Autumn gives a way back.

You have indefinitely to hear the sound of man
salting stretches of the urban streets.

Or the decoration of monkshood
the florist manicured to precision.



Hopeless Driveway

by David Bankson

I would hate to tell that genius bird, David
Schubert, how it is, that where you say
Nothing — I said it — then they tell you
A moment later that you lied. Of course I didn’t!
It is all about them, I know. They know
It is all about me. It subtracts
From my knowing I must not be what I
Think . . .

— The driveway is uncertainly
Drunk tonight: lovers, like giants,
Are fooling around under a new floodlight,
Honestly for once. It makes me feel
Young and loved. I know we are
Part of them, without nothing
I would exchange my misfortunes, but the entire
Composition has a certain Rothko quality
I cannot participate in. —

Do you want me to repeat
Their words? I really do not know it.
I am keeping the silence not to dissuade you
But to dissuade the scattered distrust
Of yourselves. I feel. I feel. I feel it.


Biography
David Bankson lives in Texas. His poetry and microfiction can be found or
is forthcoming in
(b)oink Magazine, Thank You for Swallowing, Artifact
Nouveau
, Five 2 One, Indiana Voice Journal, and Walking is Still Honest,
among others.

Poetry by David Bankson
(Henderson, Texas, USA)

The Connection of Lights
Fall
Hopeless Driveway
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