another work poem

the last time i was writing prolifically was 1997-2000 time period, just before THE GREAT STRIKE of 2001, and all the things that followed which made me decide to stop writing poetry. the exact details probably will never be fully discussed (the choice i made). this poem is from that time period.


a side note: this is the 50th post on this blog ... uncertain where it's going anymore. i was never certain what i expected this blog to be or what responses i wanted, needed for it to continue. it began as an experiment. for the time being, it'll continue, as i have a quite a few poems edited and ready for updates ...



FIGHTING FOAM

12 hours on the night shift
& fog stutters from the dark river.
mixes with vented steam from the paper machine
until there is no vision,
only the gutteral moan of machines
that have an existence to merely produce.

i stand in that mix of fog & steam,
hosing the chemical reaction of pulp fiber, potato starch
& kyme (an additive to make paper
water resistant) known as foam -
a benign bubbling that is hosed inefficiently
into the sewer ... the procedure known as
fighting foam in the vernacular.

i look up & there stands
Cesar Vallejo in his blue suit,
no safety glasses, no hard hat -
obviously not in compliance
with safety regulations. i attempt
to explain, but he points to the moon
between fog banks & says something
in Spanish, which i do not understand.

he then steps back into the fog.
i do not follow
as the sound of alarms tells me
my distractions has let
the foam short out the trim squirt motors
& the paper machine is down.

i mutter to Vallejo:
"how the hell does that make you feel?"
not certain anyone can feel anything
at 3 in the morning, knowing
a mountain of paper work awaits the arrival
of the mill wide coordinator, who i am certain
is not wearing a neatly pressed blue suit.