Silver
(old and used)
(Excerpt from Silver: 4 Connotations)
by Jena Ardell
Wooden coffee table
slick with dew
A rare roadside treasure
free to those who can haul it away
Two giant
wet glasses stains
in the center
accented by
silver spills
of God-knows-what
The voice inside my head
says,
“Take me,
make me new.”
Originally published in L.A. Weekly, 2/10/12, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Reprinted in the Silver Birch Press Silver Anthology (November 2012), available at Amazon.com.
“Collage Poem” © Jena Ardell, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ABOUT THE ARTIST: Jena Ardell is a freelance photographer and writer. Her photography has been exhibited worldwide and has appeared in numerous publications, including Rolling Stone, and can be found as the cover art to a handful of novels. She is a regular contributing writer and concert photographer for L.A. Weekly’s music and arts sections. Jena earned second place in the online feature category at the L.A. Press Club’s National Entertainment Journalism Awards 2011 for her contribution to L.A. Weekly’s Coachella coverage. Jena is currently pursuing editorial photography and seeking a publisher for a children’s book she penned during a cross-country train trip.
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“Collage Poem” and other work by Jena Ardell will appear in the Silver Birch Press Green Anthology, a collection of poetry, prose, photography, and art from contributors in the U.S., U.K., and Europe — available March 15, 2013.
Silver in San Fernando Valley
(fast, shiny and new)
(Excerpt from “Silver: 4 Connotations”)
Poem by Jena Ardell
Two beams
silver headlights
slice through the night sky,
like bullets,
down Mulholland Drive
Lights divide
cutting quadrants
across bedroom walls
before disappearing
into the darkness
quickly
fleeting,
now
careening,
down
Topanga
Cyn.
Blvd.
where partygoers stay awake
’til the stars are swallowed
by the San Fernando Valley fog
that pesters L.A. drivers
Freeway road rage
as sunglasses
slide
across
polished dashboards
tall
wide
SUVs & Hummers
each, only holding
one person
This morning
make-up smears
above
&
below
glassy pupils,
metallic shadow to the brow
(what
was I thinking?)
I walk to the mailbox
in pajamas,
bed head reflection
in shiny numbers
No one will see
me
because no one
does the speed limit
It finally came today
The steak knife
that cuts through a shoe sole
(or at least that’s what
the infomercials say)
I don’t care if it can’t
I just wanted something new
Photo: “Cruising up Mulholland Drive at Dusk” by John Wiseman, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Note: “Silver: 4 Connotations” by Jena Ardell will be included in the upcoming Silver Birch Press anthology entitled Silver. The poem was originally published in LA Weekly, 2/10/12.
Silver
(old and used)
(Excerpt from Silver: 4 Connotations)
Poem by Jena Ardell
Wooden coffee table
slick with dew
A rare roadside treasure
free to those who can haul it away
Two giant
wet glasses stains
in the center
accented by
silver spills
of God-knows-what
The voice inside my head
says,
“Take me,
make me new.”
Originally published in L.A. Weekly, 2/10/12, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Silver on the 101 (cloudy, unclear)
(Excerpt from Silver: 4 Connotations)
Poem by Jena Ardell
Slinking down the 101
Abrupt stops.
Cherry taillights
explode color
into monotone sky
squinting to see
through silver fog
an infinite amount of steam
sl ug gish ly sails
into my car
through open windows
constant streams
of streetlights
slur into the air
as we
(this fog, these strangers, myself)
sit in the San Fernando Valley
sedated.
wondering what minuscule detail
will distinguish this day
from the last
Published in L.A. Weekly, 2/10/12, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Photo: Sushmaa, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Silver Birch Press 