TWO POEMS by SAMUEL STRATHMAN

AIR CONDITIONER SONNET


It’s not another used

air conditioner I want

so much as need.

I go through the leagues

of neighbours and find one

on the other end of town

who I call neighbour.

He asks me for a hundred

and fifty and I say to him

Make it an even thousand.

He shrugs his shoulders.

I pick my nose. Now I’ve got

two used air conditioners in the trunk,

all dolled up with nowhere to go.

 

INDIE MUSIC LOVER


You’ve never heard

Of the music I listen to.

It’s not worth mentioning

any names.


It’s a type of music

that can only be heard

in the dullest corner

of a subbasement,


resounding like an echo, echo, echo.

These bands aren’t genre

but sentience,

sound.


A mix of ska

and Muzak that registers

to people who have found their spirit animal,

or are extremely woke.


Names are meaningless.

Put your ear to the wall.

If you are open to enlightenment,

then the ferrets will sing you home.

 

Samuel Strathman (he/him) is a poet, visual artist, and kitchen coordinator. Some of his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Prole, I-70 Review, Voice Lux Journal and other publications. He is the author of the chapbooks, "In Flocks of Three to Five" (Anstruther Press) and "The Incubus" (Roaring Junior Press). His debut poetry collection, “Omnishambles” is forthcoming with IceFloe Press.