I will be reading tonight as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
A House But Not A Home
The process of bringing the
house up to the standards of
Jean Harlow's ghost was
difficult, to say the least.
[Originally posted March 20, 2009. Written circa 1979.]
Friday, August 26, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Summer, Washington University in Saint Louis
I will be reading this Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
Summer, Washington University in Saint Louis
(for Rhett Miller)
five smokers outside in a circle
four boys and a lone gal
in black and white stripes
the first guy shuffles his feet and paws
at the ground with his right foot
like a horse, a stallion, a randy
thoroughbred
the girl swings her arms in front of her
back and forth until she suddenly
hugs herself tightly and then
explosively un-hugs herself and then
she begins to swing her arms again
the next guy in the circle
begins to shuffle and paw
Summer, Washington University in Saint Louis
(for Rhett Miller)
five smokers outside in a circle
four boys and a lone gal
in black and white stripes
the first guy shuffles his feet and paws
at the ground with his right foot
like a horse, a stallion, a randy
thoroughbred
the girl swings her arms in front of her
back and forth until she suddenly
hugs herself tightly and then
explosively un-hugs herself and then
she begins to swing her arms again
the next guy in the circle
begins to shuffle and paw
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
And He Fell
I will be reading this Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
And He Fell
And He Fell
he remembered where he was and
and he heard her kisses and a high, thin then he had to open the door again
fallen into morning and now, laugh for a space into which he had
no, more then than now, he was
of the fashion, big and visible doubtful of the night, of the sound,
Monday, August 22, 2011
Roldo the Fish-Headed Boy
I will be reading this Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
Roldo the Fish-headed Boy
Roldo was a boy
(that is, he was a young human
with a penis)
who differed from the rest of his society
in that he had the head of a fish
Roldo was a bright boy
he was good at math
and at reading and writing
and he could ride a bicycle like
nothing
but, still, he had the head of a fish
Other boys were often cruel to Roldo
girls, (young humans with vaginas)
were also cruel to him
they (the boys and girls) made up a song
The song was about Roldo
when he would ride by on his bicycle
they would sing:
Roldo the fish-headed boy
he’s so ugly we want to cry
he’s a fish and he should fry
and then they would laugh
The singing and laughing hurt Roldo
but he loved riding his bike too much to
stop
Roldo would often ride blocks
and blocks out of his way to avoid
other children and thus was sometimes
late in arriving at home
where he mother and father would be
anxiously awaiting his return
Mother and Father were worried about Roldo
they felt guilty about inflicting a fish-headed child
on the world and the world
on a fish-headed child
and they were afraid that something would
happen to him and somehow their guilt would be
revealed
But, still, they loved Roldo and when he would
return in tears they would hug and kiss him
and tell him that everything would be alright
and though they hadn’t really believed it
as the years passed things did begin to get better
Roldo’s fish-headedness became less and less
Until one day Roldo was just an average
boy
and went out riding his bike
and no one laughed or sang
Roldo the Fish-headed Boy
Roldo was a boy
(that is, he was a young human
with a penis)
who differed from the rest of his society
in that he had the head of a fish
Roldo was a bright boy
he was good at math
and at reading and writing
and he could ride a bicycle like
nothing
but, still, he had the head of a fish
Other boys were often cruel to Roldo
girls, (young humans with vaginas)
were also cruel to him
they (the boys and girls) made up a song
The song was about Roldo
when he would ride by on his bicycle
they would sing:
Roldo the fish-headed boy
he’s so ugly we want to cry
he’s a fish and he should fry
and then they would laugh
The singing and laughing hurt Roldo
but he loved riding his bike too much to
stop
Roldo would often ride blocks
and blocks out of his way to avoid
other children and thus was sometimes
late in arriving at home
where he mother and father would be
anxiously awaiting his return
Mother and Father were worried about Roldo
they felt guilty about inflicting a fish-headed child
on the world and the world
on a fish-headed child
and they were afraid that something would
happen to him and somehow their guilt would be
revealed
But, still, they loved Roldo and when he would
return in tears they would hug and kiss him
and tell him that everything would be alright
and though they hadn’t really believed it
as the years passed things did begin to get better
Roldo’s fish-headedness became less and less
Until one day Roldo was just an average
boy
and went out riding his bike
and no one laughed or sang
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Red Drapes
I will be reading this Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
The Red Drapes
(for Roman Polanski)
She was totally paralyzed after
A few glasses of champagne and
After all that noise, she
Stayed there and opened up
He examined her, approving
She did not consider
What had occurred
When she saw the heavy red drapes
Early in the morning over
And around her long legs
"Goodbye," he said,
"You figure it out."
The Red Drapes
(for Roman Polanski)
She was totally paralyzed after
A few glasses of champagne and
After all that noise, she
Stayed there and opened up
He examined her, approving
She did not consider
What had occurred
When she saw the heavy red drapes
Early in the morning over
And around her long legs
"Goodbye," he said,
"You figure it out."
Saturday, August 20, 2011
What Remains of the Day
I will be reading this Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
What Remains of the Day
(for Lori Blue)
Drunk and broiling in the summer sun
Telling a dude from that one band
About how you'd killed yourself
With a gunshot to your head
One of their songs playing on
Endless repeat.
What remains of the day remains to be seen
I remember his sad, shocked stare.
What could he have said?
He was only the guitar player not the singer.
What Remains of the Day
(for Lori Blue)
Drunk and broiling in the summer sun
Telling a dude from that one band
About how you'd killed yourself
With a gunshot to your head
One of their songs playing on
Endless repeat.
What remains of the day remains to be seen
I remember his sad, shocked stare.
What could he have said?
He was only the guitar player not the singer.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Times Square, 1973
I will be reading on Friday, August 26, as part the second installment of the Readings at La Mancha series. La Mancha is located at 2815 North 14th Street, right behind Crown Candy Kitchen in Old North St. Louis. The reading begins at at 7 p.m. Along with me will be St. Louis poet Treasure Shields Redmond. This will also be your last chance to see the work of local photographer, Sylvester Jacob.
Times Square, 1973
A smell barely remembered reminds her
of the day when the two of them met
and went to a Times Square hotel. She
should have known better than to skip
lunch and pick him up. He sometimes
complained when she did. But the fashion
has changed, she said. In the room,
she imagined rather than felt
the breeze from the open window
that he gazed out, humming quietly.
She asked him to come nearer and like
a long fall slowed she reached out
and touched him and it stood up and
went hard into the pink and together
they moved rhythmically. He could not
stay with it long but he could move
as she moved and then he shivered slightly
and with delight shuddered. They turned
aside and she stared at the lights beyond
as if awakening on the other side.
Times Square, 1973
A smell barely remembered reminds her
of the day when the two of them met
and went to a Times Square hotel. She
should have known better than to skip
lunch and pick him up. He sometimes
complained when she did. But the fashion
has changed, she said. In the room,
she imagined rather than felt
the breeze from the open window
that he gazed out, humming quietly.
She asked him to come nearer and like
a long fall slowed she reached out
and touched him and it stood up and
went hard into the pink and together
they moved rhythmically. He could not
stay with it long but he could move
as she moved and then he shivered slightly
and with delight shuddered. They turned
aside and she stared at the lights beyond
as if awakening on the other side.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
A Slow Twist
he's being carried past us.
it is, as a thing, a new way of looking,
a slow twist,
a kind of indignation.
we still feel it, though,
but not as much as before,
this emptiness in the middle.
(for Elvis Presley)
Wikipedia says:
it is, as a thing, a new way of looking,
a slow twist,
a kind of indignation.
we still feel it, though,
but not as much as before,
this emptiness in the middle.
(for Elvis Presley)
Wikipedia says:
Elvis Aaron Presley (January 8, 1935 – August 16, 1977) was one of the most popular American singers of the 20th century. A cultural icon, he is widely known by the single name Elvis
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