posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
Charm Offensive
Let's cut the crap, Johnny Polite.
Brass tacks and who's got
The big brass cojones is all
I give a flying fuck for, and
All your would yous and might
Is give me an itch for whoopass.
Son, all that sweet-talk is shit,
So talk horse-sense or shuddup
My ears weren't meant to hear
Nothing but truth and if it ain't
Brutal, I can be assured, you're
Lying through your lily-white teeth.
Gunsels
They weren't
even their guns,
just dark-ribboned
hats, pinstripes,
disappeared pasts
(no gunsel was ever
anyone's son)
and a habit of
silence that was
more intense than
speech -- soundless,
they ducked in
and out the edges
of the scene,
glowering, with
the certainty of
their recorded
demise (a slump
against a wall,
hand moving
from breast
pocket to face,
wet with new
blood) recalling
those extremely
successful and
ancient fertility
rituals that
involved walking
out into the
spring rain and
fucking anyone you
happened to meet.
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
Oh hooray poetry editors
for loving me, ole!
I shall write the poems
and you shall have them
Caramba, ay ay ay!
(repeat ad nauseum)
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
Bwa!
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
Having gone to probably thirty to forty poetry readings over the last few months, I am beginning to think there should be a Poetry Reading Primer. The first rule: you must keep the listener awake! The enemy of the reader is the venue: places where poetry is read tend to be dark and sudsy. They are places in which a lengthy, NPR-esque recital in your quiet hush-hush voice will undoubtedly lull the listener into a doze. Especially as you can be sure that most of the people in attendance at any poetry reading were out until all hours the previous night, drinking as much alcohol as their wee, poety frames could bear, and honestly ought to be in bed. You must give them a reason to return to this world. Yelling "Sex!" loudly in the middle of something usually does the trick.
In other news, I finally got Shanna and Shafer's new collaboration, "Big Confetti." I also got Kasey Mohammad's "Deer Head Nation," but I bought it at Barnes & Nobles, so any subversive street cred I might have gotten for buying the book has been totally wiped out by the corporate source I used. Alack.
posted by Reen |link| ...talkety...0 comments
