The serious scholarly activity of PhD poets, sane and measured as it is, or purports to be, is simply professionalism, ventriloquism, transvestism. In the arts there are no rational theses, just the dressed up rantings of hallucinating primitives. Poets are witch doctors in suits, shamans with TVs, witches who ride old Volvos instead of broomsticks. [...]
I wrote this poem for my daughter Elizabeth and her husband, Scott, and read it at their wedding last weekend. It is a pastoral poem. I couldn’t find anything to read, despite ransacking my library, and these lines popped into my head. Why not follow the trail, i thought. This is the result. I really [...]
On False Naivete
Not long ago i sent my curmudgeonly friend Philip a Kimya Dawson song I like, and he sent back a curmudgeonly reply, to the effect that he loathes Kimya Dawson and all of her ilk because he loathes false naiveté. I do still love the song I sent (Underground) but find his analysis [...]
Day 1
i have loved lies
the I’s of deception
remote and infinite
there is no gesture
that can brink it
and so the circle closes
not a halo
but a worm hole
out of Dr. Who
stretching from one
devastated planet
to another
from a planet of dust
formed from the crumbs
of ingested matter
to a planet of curfews
formed from the dust of crumbs
of ingested matter
but our bees
don’t chew [...]
5.22.96
framed by the shirt
she cannot kiss back
his bad groping taste
between them like a bloom
of ocean algae
with snarling lips his cheeks
roar up and down
red nails in a fist
awkwardly stiff
his hands hang on
to her shoulders
Equinox
the menarche of the dark
is upon the edge
among the trees
who hold their leaves
up to the light
and curl inward
till they redden
the sunflowers’ joy of crimson
hardens into grey
and the seed is pecked
till the stalk stands blind
the wet belly of the earth
squats upon the sky
and the heart pushes blood
into the bowel
fires of autumn burn
the first desire
Last Night
Last night
The park was full of bodies
I saw a face
But it was a rock
CNN spokesmodel
Sitting at Anchor
Pours news from the bottle
Of Post-Human rancor
Her comrade in arms
With the silicon stacks
Discusses the charms
Of cell phones and butt cracks
They have rivals at Fox
And can never relax
During breaks apply Botox
And get a Brazilian wax
Farfalla Press blog has posted a YouTube recording of Weldon Kees reading three poems. Weldon Kees has been a favorite poet of mine for years, since Bill Ford, my formalist adversary, introduced me to him. Farfalla has also put me in their links, so I happily reciprocate. http://farfallapress.blogspot.com/ . The other poet I associate with [...]
contact: jon@lastbender.com