Clocking Out

First published in Woodnotes #31, Autumn 1997, pages 45–46. On 7 February 2017, I found the handwritten text for this review
on a yellow piece of lined notepaper folded into quarters, tucked into my copy of the book, dated “25 December 1996, Winnipeg, Manitoba.”
Carlos Colón, also known as Haiku Elvis, died unexpectedly in October of 2016. See also “Remembering Carlos Colón.”       +

Clocking Out by Carlos Colón. Shreveport, Louisiana: Tragg Publications, 1996, 54 pages, 5½ by 8½ inches, paperback. $4.00 postpaid from the author at 185 Lynn Avenue, Shreveport, Louisiana 71105-3523 [address no longer correct]. A playful spirit pervades Carlos Colón’s Clocking Out. In between the serious moments are sparks of lightness, all keenly observed, playfully seen. About a dozen visual or “concrete” poems add whimsy to this collection where poems (mostly haiku) appear spaciously at one per page. Colón shows great stylistic range not only with visual creativity but with one-liners, three-liners, “compressed” poems such as “eyexambiguoushapes,” and one tanka. While the poet’s playfulness is enjoyable, the more conventional haiku and senryu particularly resonate with keen observation, wry irony, humour, and sharp images. One or two poems see too light (“the lovebirds / a gaggle / of giggles”), but most of Carlos Colón’s poems here are movingly serious without taking themselves too seriously.


                toweling off—

                the cold nose

                of a kitten


                emptying the classrooms a triple rainbow



The following selections, in the order they appear in Clocking Out, were not part of my 1996 review, but I include them here to show additional example poems, starting with the following concrete poem I first published in Woodnotes. I recall asking Carlos if the image might be reversed, to show the cat walking to the left instead of the right (I’m not sure why I suggested that). He said that such a change wouldn’t work, because then the shape of the cat’s tail wouldn’t match the shape of the question marks. He was completely right.


      ???

     ?   ?          /\ /\

          ?         (cat)

           catcatcatcat

           catcatcatcat

          a a        a a

         t   t      t   t


                somewhere

                on the Sgt.’s desk

                a “Missing Person” report


                zen concert—

                an air guitar

                slightly out of tune


                guiltripenance


                across the rice paper

                the teacher gently

                guides my hand

                                (for Marian Poe)


                taking over

                the editors mailbox:

                haikudzu


                harder to read—

                the faded paint

                on his “Work for Food” sign


                next day across town

                white sheets marching

                on the clothesline


                new translation—

                the farmer gestures

                with a rutabaga


                chained to the desk

                the shell

                of a ballpoint pen


                Labor Day—

                fixing the hole

                in my hammock


                sound of a penny

                dropped on a church pew—

                ripples in the walnut


                six k places i at t once t this e new n


                taking my glasses

                the optician disappears

                into the wallpaper


                pointing

                my way home

                the starfish