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Saturday morning readers share:
Ben Stinson
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Cosmic Okra
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With a low,
warbling harmonica
and a banjo pluck intro
We fade into Jim,
he’s got a beard
like a startled badger,
and I,
well,
I’m wearing mismatched socks, again.
.
We’re staring up,
at a sky so black,
like a cosmic inkwell spilled.
Jim says, “You know, the nearest star,
it’s, like, a zillion miles away,
give or take a Tuesday.”
I say, “Yeah,”
and remind him,
“that’s just
the neighbor’s
backyard bug zapper.”
.
Sitting on his porch swing,
the rusty springs creaking like a chorus of old robots.
We’re eating pickled okra,
(because,
well,
why not?),
While pondering the sheer,
unadulterated,
mind-bending,
eyeball-melting,
banana-hammock-wearing,
vastness of it all.
Galaxies spiraling,
black holes slurping,
quasars burping out light
like a drunken dragon.
.
And here we are,
Jim and I,
two blips,
two specks,
two slightly damp,
okra-flavored consciousnesses,
witnessing the cosmic freak show.
Like two white squirrels
at a symphony,
trying to figure out
if the conductor’s hat
is edible.
.
We’re here,
we’re aware,
we’re mildly confused.
And Jim just asked if the moon is made of cheddar.
.
The universe,
it doesn’t care about our socks,
or our pickled okra,
or our existential dread.
It just keeps spinning,
expanding,
doing its thing,
like a giant,
cosmic washing machine,
set on “infinite rinse cycle.”
And we’re here,
watching the suds,
wondering
if we left the dryer running.
.
And Jim just burped,
saying profoundly,
“That’s probably a supernova.”
.
.
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I am a sculptor and poet living in the mountains of NC. I find inspiration from all the bounty that nature provides. — Ben
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– Bill
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V E R S E and I M A G E 
Reading and rereading this poem, I am impressed by its cinematic feel. There are so many details that ground the speaker and his friend in the everyday, human world while they, and we, are confronted by and shown the vastness of the universe. There is a beautiful sense of awe and acceptance–even with the back-to-reality moments of bug zappers, pickled okra, and burps. Humor, too–always a welcome element in my favorite poems. I particularly like these lines:
Like two white squirrels
at a symphony,
trying to figure out
if the conductor’s hat
is edible.
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Thanks for the cool comments. Yes, this poem has kept me engaged and tickled. And man, I DO like pickled okra. —B
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You had me at the title. Reading this poems is like finding the smiles hiding in the universe. Marvelous panoramic sweep and down-to-earth dryer left running. I see god in the pickled okra. Love it.
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I just love Ben Stintons “Cosmic Okra” . It is so creative, accessible and yet explores so.much!
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