Notes On A Hook

Start with the chorus,
something to pull them in
(in medias res—that’s the sweet spot), and
so no one gets bored,
no one has a chance to wander,

launch into another.
Keep it rolling over like waves
crashing into the shore.
Flip it on its head
so you don’t know

which end is up. Don’t pause
for contemplation or rest;
that’s when the dissatisfaction
leaks in, when they will skip
ahead, change the channel.

I’m open. Rolling over and over,
turf in my mouth, salt in my
veins so that when I fail to get
my feet under me I will merge
with the almighty.

Atoms together with the champion, with
the despot, with the monk and with
the baron, with the prodigy and the
abject failure. Atoms pulled
together into something new.