In Which BigScary is Almost On Time

By -

I want to write a preface, and there should probably be some official footnotes, or something, but the cafe's running out of internet and I've gotta get this beast up.  Also.  This isn't the poem I was originally going to post, but that one is at home on the back of a Tiger Balm box.  So just paint me pretty & call me Frank O'Hara.

PS-
The spacing's all messed up.  Sorry.

PPS-
This beast makes no sense.  Enjoy regardless.

To the Over-Fashionable Girls Taking Over-Fashionable Photos at the Bay

or Notes on Why I Refuse to Write a San Francisco Poem

 

What memories I have of you, tonight, &you

sitting at promising points

wishing realities out of vacations out of the void that slinks

between a zero in checking &not.

 

Simplicity doesn’t want to be gained:

no distillation that my lingus could sidle into.

But there are brain mush molochs to consider&

their mollusking ways, I’ve been nerding to see.

 

And then a Pelican!

A real! live! swooper!

swooping! not because National Geographic told it to!

but because Witness requires such swooping!

 

Impossible to put a pen to paper in the middle of walking&,

in the middle of sea temperature telling the breeze what’s up.

 

I need a lock down for my love plan

A piece of 150 year old dough to get the ball

rolling.  &yes I am home &yes there are others wedging

but that distance also elongates. 

 

I’ve never nodded&

I’ve never said This Is Water

and meant it.

 

As a word repeated falls out

of meaning so purpose becomes a liquid

cum-shot dreams kind of liquid:

disrealities jonesing for a lack&

 

Where is the difference between security&revel?

 

I with my vile beat the

streets like a carpet, dust be damned,

eyes dripping inorganic salt

 

To find you are not composed of what made you

will not trifle me

 

I’m remembering the static playing off

The waves as if they aren’t in front of me

Certain things I will own:

Articles&Sea&Evaporate

Comments

  1. KateRoseAugust 29, 2009 at 8:09 PM

    I love: "I've never nodded&/ I've never said This is Water/ and meant it."

    What a nugget. &this poem is full of 'em.!

    Fucking punctuation.

    ReplyDelete
  2. KateRoseAugust 29, 2009 at 8:15 PM

    Just read again, and also: "...because Witness requires such swooping!" hits me oh so hot. Mmmhm.

    ReplyDelete
  3. JonSeptember 2, 2009 at 2:02 AM

    god damnit, this poem is ballin'.

    so i will have extended comments later, but this is a strong piece, much more confident than some of your stuff thus far - i like the swagger of the speaker. Such a big fan. and that "Witness" line has taken the place of "figure nines" for me, as the line I remember you by.

    I don't like the title, but that's the only criticism I have as of right now. beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. KateRoseSeptember 2, 2009 at 1:55 PM

    Oooh, yeah *SWAGGER*. That is a good description of the narrator's aplomb.

    ReplyDelete
  5. JonSeptember 13, 2009 at 8:26 PM

    AD-
    full comments time, sorry for the delay.
    first things first, you’d best be proud of your writing, because this is an ungainly beautiful beast that’s swaggering down the avenue. cheers.
    two, this title is too equivocating, give it to me hard and strong-like.
    three: not a huge fan of the stanza that starts with “Impossible to put…” because I feel like it’s a tangent outside of the speaker’s tangentialism. it’s not bad, but it’s a bit not-quite-thereish.
    “cum-shot dreams’ feels a bit easy and off-the-cuff.
    the last line doesn’t hold up with the rest of the AWESOME stanza, so I think that might need a bit of tweaking, but

    WOW this poem is so swagga. love the play with the ampersand, love the weird vernacular/academic/philosophical switching, love the sound play (nerding is fanfuckingtastic), the swooping is good and the exclamation points are well warranted, the 150 year old starter dough is a genius in-circle knowledge gesture, the elongating distance.

    and AD, really, “I’m remembering the static playing off / The waves as if they aren’t in front of me” (should that be “weren’t? I dunno, that’s a little awk) is SO FUCKING GOOD, you sumbitch. I can’t start because this poem is so good and congrats, you should edit this a bit and fucking ride this motherfucker to the Mississippi delta. good motherfucking job, you statuesque street goddess.

    sorry if I’m gushing.

    ReplyDelete
  6. B. BarrettSeptember 23, 2009 at 11:19 AM

    This poem is so close to perfect. If there was a perfect. You are full of such colors.

    ReplyDelete

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