Issue 104 Fiction Poetry Nonfiction Art + Photography Film Music Books For Creators more

Audible Seasons

 Zachary Kluckman
 Zachary Kluckman
Audible Seasons
by Zachary Kluckman  FollowFollow
Zachary Kluckman is a multi-award winning author, poet and spoken word artist recently named the 2014 Slam Artist of the Year at the more Poetry Awards, and an accomplished de-tangler of string cheese. A two-time member of the Albuquerque National Poetry Slam team, and touring artist, he has performed across the nation, sharing the stage with many of the top artists in the world. His writing, performances and workshops around the world have earned him distinction, but at heart he is an activist, youth advocate and community organizer. In 2014 he received a Gold Medal award from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards as a Teacher for his work with young writers. He is a founding organizer of the 100 Thousand Poets for Change program, an annual event involving artists and activists in over 100 countries, recognized as the largest poetry reading in history. Kluckman serves as the Spoken Word Editor for the Pedestal magazine and is the author of three books including Per-City Poems (Dichotomy Dances Press, 2006), the Red Mountain Press National Poetry Prize winning Animals in Our Flesh (Red Mountain Press, 2013), and Some of It is Muscle (Swimming With Elephants Publications, 2014), a finalist in the New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards. He has also edited two anthologies, including the New Mexico Book Awards finalist, Earthships: A New Mecca Poetry Anthology (Horse & Tiger Press, 2007) and Trigger Warning: Poetry Saved My Life (Swimming With Elephants Publications, 2014).
More work by Zachary Kluckman:
Audible Seasons
957 2 3 1shareShare

The needle on the dashboard
injects a kind of silence
into the way we hold conversations.

The beige sweat of the front seat,
with it's buckles tightened across your chest
as if practicing for mastery of the simple caress,

carries the same hint of longing
sand knows,      staring at the glass of the sky.

The mountains through the windows
make us feel like residents of
inexplicably mobile terrariums.

I wonder what hamsters
think about in moments like this,

When the sound of wheels is a redundant exhibitionism
and talking to yourself is no longer an option,
because you've already told all your best jokes.

Looking at you, with your hair
a posturing paintbrush for desert horizons
whipping the air with convulsions of color,

I realize that motion
is what causes all of our great silences.
That it is in the moment when we surrender
to the stubborn velocity of our  bodies
that we lose interest in conversation.

That  the sweet wine of nostalgia
has a tendency to neuter our tongues,
as if silence were a lover
whose sentences we finish.

That we punish ourselves with these acts of acceleration
for fear the sun will stop to notice us
making faces behind its back
the way we did once, when we were young.

I want nothing more
than for you to think me noble
for holding your hand,
with this stillness caught between us
and tell you everything I ever thought
was too stupid to utter.

To drive this car onto the shoulder of the road,
place our feet in the windshield of this drive-in horizon,
and trade the summers of our silence
for more audible seasons.



  2 years ago
Wonderful Zach. Lovely ending.... With the shoulder of road! Mike