Modern Poet's Pinball Machine

Roll up to the amusement arcade. Behold all the video games you can play - Dodgem car driving games, smash-'em-up derbies. Claw-crane lunge-and-snag-a-toy games, Pop-a-shot in basketball hoops, Pac-Man, Mario, Galaga, Street Fighter. Way-back in the far shadowy back corner is the Old ‘Pinball-For-Poesy’ Machine, with lights blazing like a disco-machine. “5 Stanzas Fires for a Buck,” reads the sign. Come on, Come on, give it a go, you might spark a thought or two! So I pay my coin! Down drops the first shiny metal shot. I pull back the plunger thing, and let it fly! Off it goes, ricochets off the bumpers. Careens off the slingshots and rings. Blasting up and down ramps, snakes and ladders. Bells ring, lights flash, up goes the score! Then—look out! Just when the ball is about to go down the rabbit hole, I flip the paddle at the bottom, timed with every twitch of nerve, up goes the ball into the next phrase. Up it soars, triggering flashes of memory and firecracker thoughts, thumps, bumps and clangor in my brain. The bells and whistles ring - It’s a riot of sparks and sound. Sadly then, it ends, when my time and luck runs out. After the fifth ball drops down the abyss, I’m out! The poet is thrilled that someone paid to play the game. Grateful that the reader shared their pinball plunge, with all its bumps, thrills, bells and whistles. Following the orbit of words and sparks, written with the intention of meaning, hidden between the lines, in the magician’s puzzle of suggestion. The poet is happy for the reader to see what they see, hear what they hear, feel every pulse and flash inside themselves. Without the poet casting a spell, or implying meaning, in the telling.