MINING by Shawn Nacona Stroud

Featured poet in WINK: Writers IN the Know, issue #1

Mining

First, I shovel

words, crackling

like churned earth. Forage

deep for those riches

buried in my depths. Then,

sift out pronouns and adjectives

as if grit from oil—perpetually

clogging one’s ingenuity.

Now shall I pan for imagery?

This nugget is a simile, here

a chunk of metaphor. Observe

how dense they both are

rising as they do

to the very top of my mind

when everything else simply sinks—

the clinks of dying lines

striking the bottom.

Their splendor is nearly blinding—

glimmers that speak of wealth and greed

and a need, always such a need

for something other. I’ve struck

gold—poem jazzing up

my page like pyrite.

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