Kevin and I go way back. He was the first-baseman and I an outfielder on an intramural softball team at U.C. Davis. Somehow our team won a championship. Kevin was known for great defense and consistent hitting, while I was known for somewhat reckless play in the outfield and the occasional head-first slide.
Kevin's also the author of In the Evening of No Warning, a superb collection of poems.
Here's a poem from Kevin; it's a smart contemporary sonnet, in which the imagery, phrasing, sound, and sense mesh perfectly:
MATERIALIST NOIR
By Kevin Clark
Love must ride a weak carrier wave here
In the land of just the facts, ma’am. Let me
Promise― The post-coital scent of your hair,
Your dreams in code, your eyes steeped clear as tea,
The white heroin of your inner thigh…
I’ve hidden each essential gift in rooms
Far from those detectives who have to try
All evidence for unimpeachable proof
Of absolute zero. ―And I should know,
I’m one of them questioning two selves: Dead
Sure and Maybe Not. When you radio
Me from behind your book, from deep in bed,
From the patio dahlias, there’s no place
the cops find us. We’re gone without a trace.
Copyright Kevin Clark 2007; first published in Askew.
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