Hallowed Rewind--part one

I was at a poetry party. Pretty big party--Eileen Myles was the guest of honor, so there was lots of factional crossover. 21 Grand types, flarfers, 4th gen langpo--I feel embarrassed listing them because I'm so out of it now that I can't recognize the categories, let alone the players. Where's my scorcard? But it was pretty comfortable--or as comfortable as parties can be, for me. I thought, I'm a poet, they're poets, lots in common. But---

Talking to a younger poet--I really like her work. She's read in the series I curate, knows me as a buyer for the store. But said--"I didn't know you wrote poetry." Seemed quite surprised. She knew about the novels.

I realized that I haven't published poetry in years--except for two exceptions, David Brazil's mag, Try, and one chapbook on Blue Press. I've wanted to publish more, but my poetry seems miles behind (or ahead, or just outside) what other poets are doing now.

Lateley (to quote William Talcott) my ego's been barking. I've been rewriting old poems, and writing new ones. Would like to have a "New and Selected" published, but doubt there would be much interest. So--I'm going to post stuff as I finish, starting with early rewrites. Next party--I'll just point 'em to my blog.


Hallowed Rewind
new and selected poems


Loose Ends

We were on the roof gray day
The sky blended in with it
Saw a bird kind of slate
Said maybe we could go out
Get a drink or something noticed
A gray pole and a broken antenna
A rope wound around knotted
At the end knot made a clanging

Saw some blue beyond the clouds
Then didn’t you said what movie
Is this something foreign judging
By the slowness of the plot your
Head was in your hands then
You straightened stood stretched
Drifted to the edge


Secret Agent Man

People who wear exotic clothes
Often have conventional minds
I’ve decided to dress like a clerk
For the rest of my life

I once considered taking a vow
Of silence but feared I’d attract
Too much attention as a mute

I go to an office and file until lunch
Go for a sandwich at a sandwich place
Return to the office and file some more


I Wish They All Could Be

God only knows what I’d be without you
Shiver bow my head walking the avenue
Where people routinely bounce off the walls
Like bumper cars then fall in heaps
At the end of the street just like the plague

Only to be carried away in flatbed trucks
Crying 96 tears into 98 wounds