Thursday, February 05, 2004
Dear reader, thank you for both your concern and your devoted readership. hmmm, well, the best way to put this is that we're not the kind of poets with vacation houses. so maybe think of this blog as our vacation house. when we're not here, hanging out, we're pretty busy: losing jobs, getting new ones, having babies, writing poems, going to readings, raising kids, etc.
Thank you much for your time,
now for that Jeni Olin poem! for the great poetry enjoyment for all!
I felt more at home on this pill in the bucolic shire
In the Hamptons amid the piss-colored braids
of wheat on a metamucil can, milkweed & sneeze drops,
a novelette THE LONELINESS OF A MIDDLE DISTANCE RUNNER
never checked out in the orangeade foam of dawn
Glistening like a brow in an aspirin ad on the telly
I've got a brain like soaked coral.
I've got a tongue like a baby's penis.
I'm Bruce Willis in THE SIXTH SENSE-I'm dead but I don't know it.
My pen, my eskimo blood spilled cheekily over "good & dear people..."
I managed to write this by myself.
When I said "Oh get me away I'm dying," I meant I wanted
a cigarette and a problem child on a peony-filled evening.
In the dry heat of photocopy fans,
making Easter cards with the, uh, terminally ill,
You hold the retinal scanner to my heart.
"Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
as flames rose to her roman nose and her hearing aid began to melt"
and in the darkened underpass I gave
blood and now my French is shaky.