Arthur Sze

Doppler Effect
June 12, 2014 Sze Arthur

Doppler Effect

 

Stopped in cars, we are waiting to accelerate

along different trajectories. I catch the rising

 

pitch of a train—today one hundred nine people

died in a stampede converging at a bridge;

 

radioactive water trickles underground

toward the Pacific Ocean; nickel and copper

 

particulates contaminate the Brocade River.

Will this planet sustain ten billion people?

 

Ah, switch it: a spider plant leans toward

a glass door, and six offshoots dangle from it;

 

the more I fingered the clay slab into a bowl,

the more misshapen it became; though I have

 

botched this, bungled that, the errancies

reveal it would not be better if things happened

 

just as I wished; a puffer fish inflates on deck;

a burst of burnt rubber rises from pavement.

Arthur Szes most recent collection of poetry is The Gingko Light. His many awards include an American Book Award, a Lannan Literary Award and the Western States Book Award for Translation. He recently was named Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets.