(Oh editors you are strange creatures, always accepting the poem I thought you least likely to accept which makes me call my own judgment into question but hell what is there to complain about?)
*Dancy*Dancy*Dance.
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hey, i've got some poets gathering at kettle of fish sheridan sq. (now stonewall place, 'north' side, just east of 7th ave. at the 1-9. down the steps.
saturday night at 9:30, if you can, you should stop in. tell everyone.
___
As blog-posting is the only method of telling everyone I currently possess (I'm working on getting GPS radio transmitters subcutaneously implanted in the entire human population, but it's slow going, and there's a lot of red tape), consider it done.
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The Western Conception of the Desert Island
The bathroom was clean, but two
Of the stalls were out of order
And the overhead light broken,
The only cake of soap dried
Out with grit. It was West
Texas or east New Mexico and
No waves, no sea turtle, no samba,
But sand surrounding dry grass
Surrounding sand surrounding
Dry grass surrounding this
Truck stop with nothing for sale,
Just this bathroom and a flat
Alkaline ocean, bisected by
Asphalt, by the moldy red
Velvet lining the walls.
__________
Atmospheric, no? My specialty. Really. My sister also had many adventures. She got a speeding ticket issued on authority of a Texas town so small she can't find it on a map, was told lewd things by bikers, and almost died in Devil's Canyon. She also learned that at least one person on the Tennessee/Virginia border believes that Saturday is the proper Sabbath, that celebrating any other Sabbath puts you in league with the devil, and that a billboard is the proper way to communicate these sentiments. Also, that if another billboard is to believed, the state of Arkansas strongly urges its citizens to consume rice (or in the words of the billboard, "Rice. Wow!")
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Pearl diving isn't really what your mom
had in mind when she told you to get
an after-school job but the pay
is good, you meet interesting people,
and you can now hold your breath
for up to two minutes without
blacking out. It's pretty repetitive
but you can think your own
thoughts and you're pretty sure
that your musculature is being noised
around the girl's locker room as
"hot." Breathe, dive, sink, feel
around, grab, push off, and repeat.
Except for today! For today is
the day you breathe, dive, sink,
feel around for oysters, grab, and
OW MY GOD THE PAIN THE ENDLESS PAIN,
push off, push off! For you have startled
an eel! A moray eel and it will not
let go and all the guys on
the boat will laugh at you and the
girls in the locker room will look at
your bandaged finger and giggle
"he was attacked by, get this, an eel.
Like, I've eaten eel. It's like getting
attacked by a chicken." Or will
all the guys on board shamble up,
and circling you, reveal nubs and
scars from their own close
encounters with the eely kind and
welcome you into their grizzled
brotherhood of men who have
confronted the ocean's terrible
secrets and lived to tell the tale
and the girls will all think your
scar is cool and romantic and
you can flash it to Courtney Davison,
head cheerleader, while proferring
an oyster with a flawless pearl,
saying, in a suddenly baritone voice,
"I have faced countless and unimaginable
dangers, my love, for the pleasure of
giving you this," but you're bleeding
and the eel is thrashing and sharks
can smell blood from five miles
away and they can probably teleport
too or else they've been watching
you the entire time wondering if
this is their best bet to taste human
or if it's even worth getting their teeth
dirty on anyone who'll let an eel
intimidate him and ow ow, whose fucking
brilliant idea was it to put salt in
sea water, and aw man, the captain's
telling you you're gonna need stitches,
and aw man, you know what that means:
now you're mom's gonna make you quit
and work at Arby's. Aw man. An eel. Aw man.
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John Ashbery: Chinese Whispers
Myung Mi Kim: Nest
Hey, is God Save My Queen II out yet? And if not, man, for the love of God, when?
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Also made some block print covers for Calamity and the Calamity Annex, which are being printed dos-a-dos style, back to back. I'm still finalizing the language, but I should have them out and available pretty soon. I may have to shellac the covers...the black ink is kind of smudgy, like newsprint, but it may just be that the incredible NYC humidity is making them take extra long to fully dry.
I also figured out why Mark has stopped answering his phone. One of his mom's dogs ate it. Seriously. Like homework, except true. I can totally see one of those dogs swallowing a cell phone. And then the phone ringing inside its tummy in distress, sending out one final, pathetic text message: SOS DOG DIGESTIVE ACID AHHHH!
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