Thirteen Ways of Looking at Anger
By Stephen Kampa
1
anger the starting
point the setting
out the site
wherein all one’s
beleaguerments
begin anger
the origo the ur-
legend glossing
a madcap map
illuminated
as finely as if
by ink-tipped pin
anger the set
of unsettling
coordinates
making everything
icicle-clear
anger the arrow
pointing to anger
the text of
anger’s aggrandizing
caption obviously
in red reading
YOU AREN’T HERE
2
anger like rock candy
hard jagged sweet
as I suck it
stuck by the sharp
prickles the pleasure
I note its unnatural
antithesis to mineral
savors of stones
rolling it around
my mouth
then crunching down
on what could be
of something small
maybe a bird the bones
3
anger the hanger
on which I hang
the trim black suit
I wear only
at home alone
sounding the mirror
with the black
patches punching
through gazing
at myself
evil-lipped
sneer-eyed
rehearsing
the moment
I plan to put it
and the whole
world on
buttoning
the one
button
and stepping
outside
4
anger the long
swig from a widow’s
jug the held
back head
for a second
slug the bobbing
adam’s apple
of every glug
then the crisp
gasp and thrilling
knowledge
the bottle
with every
swallow
is miraculously
refilling
5
anger the whetstone
anger the knife
anger the sound
of the one
sliding
against the other
the repetitious rasp
clink gritty scrape
anger the sound
stopping
6
anger the ten
second
clip
I play
rewind
and play
catching
the studio
laughter
the clip’s
quips
and savage
applause
echoing
for hours
after
7
the breath
I’m not taking
the bell
I’m not hearing
the beer
I’m still drinking
the bar
I’m clearing
8
anger the itch
I cannot help
but itch the bite
from some
little unthumbed
son-of-a-bitch
I can’t remember biting
me one wonders
what notions have
been planted what
plans have been
laid upraised
fist roar skirmish war
one wonders what
squirming larva
builds itself nightly
and when it will
hatch and whether
one will be the one
at the end
standing saying
no no no
it’s just
a scratch
9
anger the odd
reflection in
the mirror the moment
some glint some all
sufficient flash
blinds me into being
a man who can
only see the thing he saw
the moment
he stopped seeing
10
anger the sympathetic
listener sidled up
beside you
at the bar the host
of paralinguistic
cues and generous
nodding supporting
you in your views
with only the slightest
prodding that you
indeed have been
defamed disenfranchised
subjugated squashed
the one who
pulls back your chair
to help you
out into
the streets that soon
will know you’re there
11
anger this stutter
splutter stammer
like the tentative
tappity-tap targeting
of a nail by a hammer
in a board too thin
for the hammer’s hit
a necessary board now
irrevocably
split
12
anger the hit
single stuck
wormlike somewhere
undislodgeable
the mollifying
little melody
I whistle on
my walk to work
the beat I pound
on my steering
wheel while
bellowing at lights
the misheard lyrics
I mouth without
pretending
to understand
anger the riff
repeating in my head
the catchy chorus
and deceptive
cadence leading
into a crescendo
of feeling I’m shouting
skyward at top
volume awaiting
the redeeming
catharsis of one last
go at the hook
although without
the endless-seeming
budget or lush
production it’s just
anger the radio
silence and round
about me dead air
and me me screaming
13
anger getting all
zen getting in
touch with its center
and the power
calm calligraph
has to offer
watch anger
wrist and hand
tracing concentric
circles like a bird
beak in the water
watch anger
pinpoint the minute
it has finished
the brushwork
of this cool
bull’s-eye
and begins
looking where
to pin it
Stephen Kampa is the author of three collections of poetry: Cracks in the Invisible (2011), Bachelor Pad (2014), and Articulate as Rain (2018). He teaches poetry, literature, and first-year writing at Flagler College.