Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Small-Town Bootblack vs Clunkers, Raymond, Washington, circa 1960: My Almost Inaugural Poem
Coolly
Tooling by that run-down
Shoeshine stand
In their souped-up clunkers,
Our honkies must have thought
The town's sole token Nigger
Ned couldn't tell shit from Shineola;
And that they surely had it over
Him to boot.
I guess that explains why
He was never caught hauling
Smart-ass white punks like us a hundred
Miles to his whores in the city and back
Come late every Saturday night
In that beautiful, sharp, shining, slick
Mother-fucking classic of a black
Eldorado Cadillac.
POSTSCRIPT: I was seriously considering posting this poem before President Obama's inauguration ceremony but decided against it for fear of having my blog flagged for using vulgar, offensive language. However, after reading Ron Silliman's blog which had a link to a Guardian
article about a high school "teacher" in my former home state of Washington, I had second thoughts about not posting it. Hope nobody's offended.
Tooling by that run-down
Shoeshine stand
In their souped-up clunkers,
Our honkies must have thought
The town's sole token Nigger
Ned couldn't tell shit from Shineola;
And that they surely had it over
Him to boot.
I guess that explains why
He was never caught hauling
Smart-ass white punks like us a hundred
Miles to his whores in the city and back
Come late every Saturday night
In that beautiful, sharp, shining, slick
Mother-fucking classic of a black
Eldorado Cadillac.
POSTSCRIPT: I was seriously considering posting this poem before President Obama's inauguration ceremony but decided against it for fear of having my blog flagged for using vulgar, offensive language. However, after reading Ron Silliman's blog which had a link to a Guardian
article about a high school "teacher" in my former home state of Washington, I had second thoughts about not posting it. Hope nobody's offended.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
How I Was Cured of Hunting
spied
thrush in thicket
looking
after its wound,
a sprig
of therapeutic
o-
re-
ga-
no in its bleeding
beak.
(First published in Shearsman 62)
Friday, January 23, 2009
Ecology
Jackdaw chatters on
Tip of blighted cypress,
Biting acid tongue.
(First published in NOON: journal of the short poem, #2)
Tip of blighted cypress,
Biting acid tongue.
(First published in NOON: journal of the short poem, #2)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Et in Arcadia ego
Poussin--
I remember
It must have been
Way back then
One spring it was poetic
I was sprightly
Dallying a way behind
Dilapidated swayback nag when
She sent my way a waft
Of her reeking
Slow ancient hind-
Quarters from what seemed half,
Nay, a whole classic pastoral
Country mile away--
I must tell you
I was genuinely
Swept away.
(First published in First Intensity #21, Fall 2006)
I remember
It must have been
Way back then
One spring it was poetic
I was sprightly
Dallying a way behind
Dilapidated swayback nag when
She sent my way a waft
Of her reeking
Slow ancient hind-
Quarters from what seemed half,
Nay, a whole classic pastoral
Country mile away--
I must tell you
I was genuinely
Swept away.
(First published in First Intensity #21, Fall 2006)
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