William Stobb

Addition

All energy dissipates through structure

so additions shape and elapse:

like these three rooms added in ‘74

by the karate teacher who owned this property. 

See wood paneling painted orange,

abandoned farm photo and Giacommetti starveling.

Lining the built-in shelves, books—

a concept that can seem absurd in the grand scheme:

while volcanoes erupt ice on Neptune

compendiums of knowledge decorate mortgaged space.

See His Furious Hands of Dragon

stud the foundation. See His Flying Kicks

of Devastating Construction hang drywall. 

Based on basement evidence I deduce:

low on funds He threw Chinese stars

of leftover crown molding

down for baseboards, drank Old Style

and listened to Elvis records. 

As the first heat of our universe

still ripples through radio static

the master’s legacy remains:

His School of Kung Fu’s in the plaza now,

so when I stop by the pharmacy

for pain relievers and pork rinds

I can watch through the big front windows

a line of children practicing sweet Jujitsu

while the Sensei who cobbled these rooms together

lingers somewhere in the shadows

sizing up his new occupant:

soft, he thinks, as he beats on his thigh

a loose rhythm with two screwdrivers

he’s tied together for nunchuks.