Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Ahoy, from DUSIE ! ! ! ! 

by Greg Fuchs

Don't even know where you are
Well not exactly
You are in the East Bay
Crisp clean American dream
During suburban existentialism
So perfectly depicted by Bob
Through automobiles & windows
Lawns, streets, cocktails,
& the punctum
Like the Hoover left in the frame
Or your aunt's pearls
I could tell by your paintings
That you would leave your wife
Well at least you married Whitney
And here comes the foreign car
Next to plastic
Garbage cans in the oughts.


From Greg Fuchs's new chapbook Pieces of the Sky, put out by Dusie. When reading the title poem I can hear him reading it, here in Philadelphia, his poem for New Orleans. "The wind, the water / Washed my home, / My people away...."

This chap is literally the size of your palm, a tiny treasure!

Dirge, but brass band style, as he writes, "Come all ye / this is your orange / revolution / be in the streets" inspiring from the brink of tears. MMmmmm. I'd have to pinch you to make sure you were real if you said these poems didn't do it for you. Must I pinch you?


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