Fred Aiken Writing

the feel of the thing

i painted my fingers,
but not my nails,
because i wanted to see what it would 
feel like with acrylic gloves
imprinting everything i touched

the blankness

i keep studying the same line
for hours on end,
but i don’t think i’ve gotten any closer
to understanding what it’s trying to tell me,
but that might be because it’s blank

what’s happened is happening

i heard you know what’s going on,
and i’d like to ask you if you could enlighten me
for a pack of spearmint gum that i found
on the bank of a creek
where i caught a fish i named hubert
so i might know who and what i am eating
by fire