Springer - Juice: poems

Contents Praise for Juice
Reading Charles Springers collection of poems, Juice , is like getting on a roller coaster, flying down the hill at break-neck speed, then going airborne, flying off the tracks only to land in a field of sunflowers and lilacs, unscathed and delicious all at once. Hes a poet of the earth, of the sky, of the everyday and making their beauty stand up and be noticed. He writes about knees, about dementia; he writes about houses and milk and New Jersey! When you read Springers work you are reading a celebration of the minimal that, eventually, gets you to maximalthat big open place where the metaphorical heart dances and sings, and where the physical heart gets stronger and stronger. Juice is a collection of poems that should be on every bookshelf, sitting there strong, spine out, right between the cookbook and The Bible. - Matthew Lippman, author of A Little Gut Magic
and Mesmerizingly Sadly Beautiful

Charleys Juice takes you to a world that is so real its fake, so fake its real, and so fantastical you cant figure out if you are coming or going. Deep sadness mingles with slapstick and everyone is getting up and going to work in the underbelly of Heaven.

Juice is a magical joyride on a spaceship made of dust and stars, cobwebs and takeout boxes, fenders and a little hay that shoots us straight to a carnival of hyperrealism, where the side show is a mirror into our souls. Look in. You may think the mirror is warped, but let me tell you, its not. Read Juice and read America in all its rusty, neon, prairied, and salt-stained glory. - Rebecca Kinzie-Bastian, author of Charms for Finding Juice
Poems
Charles Springer Regal House Publishing Copyright 2019 Charles Springer.
Published by Regal House Publishing, LLC Raleigh, NC 27612 All rights reserved
ISBN -13 (paperback): 9781947548657 ISBN -13 (epub): 9781947548664 Library of Congress Control Number: 2019940529
All efforts were made to determine the copyright holders and obtain their permissions in any circumstance where copyrighted material was used.
Published by Regal House Publishing, LLC Raleigh, NC 27612 All rights reserved
ISBN -13 (paperback): 9781947548657 ISBN -13 (epub): 9781947548664 Library of Congress Control Number: 2019940529
All efforts were made to determine the copyright holders and obtain their permissions in any circumstance where copyrighted material was used.

The publisher apologizes if any errors were made during this process, or if any omissions occurred. If noted, please contact the publisher and all efforts will be made to incorporate permissions in future editions.
Interior and cover design by Lafayette & Greene lafayetteandgreene.com Cover images by Shutterstock/Walnut Bird
Regal House Publishing, LLC https://regalhousepublishing.com
The following is a work of fiction created by the author. All names, individuals, characters, places, items, brands, events, etc. were either the product of the author or were used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Regal House Publishing.
Printed in the United States of America
To my brothers whose names have been given to stars. One

To Florida Just this once Id like to drive straight through. Break only for a fill up, quick piss. Have someone wide awake beside me, an elbow in my ribs when Id drift across the double yellows. Wed take our time,
Eastern Standard Time, no rush, no rage.

And every now and then, my someone at the wheel, Id raise up through the moon roof, feel what breeze feels long before its gale. Coast, never come to complete stops, no matter how octagonal or red the signs.
Packin

Again, the girl forgot the ketchup. Who eats fries without the ketchup? Who?

What are diners coming to?
Take church! Who goes without a piece? Prayers end in booms. Empty cartridges clink in collection plates.
Ceilings of nearly every building leak. No wonder roofers get shot up the most: easy targets up there on their slates.
Wheres the yellow mustard? Whos got the gall to swipe the salt?

Glad I wore my Kevlar. Still I tip big walking out.
Breaking the News

Chets on Ativan for everyday he knows today could be the one, tonight right after Letterman, beer number seven.
Its not so good to mix elixirs, lager and lorazepam, then both hands always full or always emptys not good either
as he slowly gets the feeling back in his toes, jumps up off the couch to join the pigtailed Prozac taker polkaing down the country lane of commercial breaks,
clover and Holsteins on both sides feeding each other, Chet, clueless why nothing out here smells like shit or ever has to.
Chicken Little
Going nowhere in particular, I run my best ahead of jets unzipping sky.
Something always happens just as theyre over the equator
and I am yards outside of my perimeter.

Maybe it has rained or a spell of freak hail.
For sure the air above is borrowed and my years old.
When jets are done and sky is yawning, a smoky trail shows up. Then doesnt.
One of these tomorrows the sky is going to start to want things back.
I begin with little pieces by pieces as recommended by my astronomer.
I pick up hitchhikers with litter in their pockets, broken glass inside their backpacks.
I am good for months or miles. When over, the sky will have my reach around it.
Atlas
Pull the curtains back and there it is, the Northern Hemisphere. Walk outside on the spiral lawn and there it is going down the road. A day begins. Get on with it.
Supersonic pilot neighbor flies around the world several times at top speed and gets his week in early.

He leaves his heart in 37 37 N latitude, 122 23 W longitude, singing.
Foggy days neighbor on the cul-de-sac starts up her SUV with GPS to tell her where she is. Costly extras include a printout of just how far shes come.
Cant remember who in New Hampshire has a combo walking stick/dowsing rod but every evening someone finds Roy, yup, thats him, Roy, at the ocean.
Kids dont get car sick now their dads arent going in circles. Not going is like that in some places. Take Nebraska.
Wheres that good old paper map that smells like fuel? Best visit little towns before they wear away inside its folded corners.
In days to come, ones we do not love or even know will worry well stop by before theyre dressed. By then therell be no place to go we wont know how to get to. What good is going if we cant get lost in in Mississippi?
Walks
Hawk walks the sky on I-beams.

Looks down doesnt throw up!
Just one of those things you either can or cant do. Lately it takes all I got
to walk to and from my hotdog stand there on the corner. Hawk
triples mustard. Talks over crickets in his ears. I see
faraway in his eyes, his home upstate, on clear days clear to Pennsylvania.
I tell him many of my ancestors there walked in and out of earth for coal.
He gets shaky just thinking of walking in and out of earth.
I hand a relished footlong to a sailor here for a little R & R
and cant hold back. Nor Hawk.

So, sailor, how do you walk out there on water?
New Jersey
The Browns are found dumb with the disappearance of their white cow in the Pine Barrens.
How she went unnoticed by everyone except the neighbors beagle among the drying bed sheets
they dont know. How she mazed through fleets of anonymous service vans,