Friday, February 19, 2010

I read tonight. Then this happened. I don't know for sure what that means, but it looks like my little pamphlet might be next.

I'm drinking Hamm's and watching WWE. What does that say about me? Probably something weird.

Have you ever Nick Flynn? Apparently I did once...and then forgot. He was in town last week reading from a memoir and I had little interest; then I grabbed an old anthology (American Poetry: The Next Generation) and realized that 10 years ago I wrote, what I assume, is a real shitty paper about his 10 year old poems and I got real bummed that I skipped his reading.

According to Jim Galvin his IWW story works like this: he was student a in the non-fiction program and was having a shit time...then he applied to the poetry IWW program based on a few lyric prose pieces and got in. SO, he was accepted here as a poet...having really written no poetry before (but how different is that from so many others). That said, ten years ago, I was totally in love with his poems, and now, I'm totally in love with his poems.

This might be my favorite:

Emptying Town
after Provincetown

Each fall this town empties, leaving me
drained, standing on the dock, waving
bye bye, the white handerkerchief
stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus

rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny,
the way he points to it. I'm afraid
the way I miss you

will be this obvious. I have

a friend who everyone warns me
is dangerous, he hides
bloody images of Jesus around my house

for me to find when I come home--Jesus
behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked

into the mirror. He wants to save me

but we disagree from what. My version of Hell
is someone ripping open his
shirt & saying,

look what I did for you.

I think that's pretty rad, don't you?

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