POEM: Blackout (0)
Posted 9 March, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry
Listen to this poem using the player above.
Blackout
during the war he rode the English trains
asking strangers to wake him at his stop
they never did, and he’d find himself lost
in the blacked-out countryside
worried that the Brits would find him
and think he was a German spy
“They’d shoot ya,” he told me
holding on to the bar in the subway
and leaning against his wife
“My Ro,” he called her
they’d just been to the opera
to see Atilla, and now here he was navigating
the depths of this city, trying to
find the next connection and looking for help
to yet another stranger on a train
I grasped his hand as I led his Ro and him
to the shuttle for Grand Central
this time all the lights were on,
and no shots were fired
POEM: Eating Godzilla (2)
Posted 4 March, 2010 in Audio Poems, Japan, Movies, My poems, Poetry
Listen to this poem using the player above. The music is “Crude Friendly” by Kevin Baird. The laughter is by Bernie and John.
Eating Godzilla
for some reason, we started with the tail
you’d think that would be the toughest part
but after we’d sliced away the scales
the flesh was surprisingly tender
and no, it didn’t like taste like chicken
well, maybe a little
but it also had that metallic
just-out-of-the-microwave aftertaste
probably from the lingering effects of the radiation
Kazuhiro had insisted on serving side dishes
despite our obvious inability to finish
the great green lizard in one sitting
so we’d sautéed Mothra in a sesame sauce
and served him (her? it?) in lovely
sculpted bowls that fit perfectly in the hand
I’d suggested also eating Raymond Burr
just for old times’ sake
but by this time he was more fat than meat
and who can be bothered to pare all that away
just for a few grizzled bits of TV lawyer?
anyway, after the tail was finished we
cracked open Godzilla’s skull to get at
what we thought would be
the salty brain encased within
imagine our surprise, then, when
the skull turned out to contain
thousands of Pez candies
in a variety of fruity colors
Iwai-kun suggested handing them out to the children
who’d naturally gathered ’round us
for a look at the sundered source
of their nightmares
you should have seen the smiles
on their faces as he
reached his hands into the skull
and drew forth the rainbow
of sugary delights
he tossed the Pez out like Mardi Gras beads
and the kids scrummaged for them, squealing
POEM: Tea Ceremony Hurts Yours Legs (4)
Posted 3 March, 2010 in Audio Poems, Japan, My poems, Poetry, Travel
Listen to this poem using the player above.
Tea Ceremony Hurts Yours Legs
at 17, I studied the ancient art of tea ceremony
with my final host-mother
and a teacher who seemed middle-aged
but may have been just slightly older than I am now
I’m not sure about the sensei,
but one thing I do know is
tea ceremony hurts your legs
the insidious thing is that you
don’t even notice it at first
you’re too focused on
placing the bowl just so
the ladle along the crook
between your thumb and index finger
the sugary snacks on a piece
of pristine rice paper
floating above the tatami floor
after a while, it feels like
you yourself are suspended
above the floor, just slightly
is this enlightenment?
did I, at 17, achieve satori?
wait till my parents hear about this!
and it’s then, as you leap up
to spread the word
that you realize your mistake
and pitch face-down onto the mat
spilling your carefully whipped green foam
and crushing the delicate wooden ladle
POEM: Where In The World Is Weldon Kees? (0)
Posted 2 March, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry
Listen to this poem using the player above.
On July 19, 1955, poet Weldon Kees’ car was found on the Golden Gate Bridge with the keys still in the ignition. Shortly before, he’d told a friend that he wanted to move to Mexico to start a new life.
Where In The World Is Weldon Kees?
“It is still not known whether he killed himself or went to Mexico.”
– from a Poetry Foundation podcast about Kees
Or maybe both
perhaps all suicides go to Mexico
sit invisibly in the zocalo
and listen to the mariachi band
if unbaptized babies
are shunted off to limbo
and a beef jerky
can get you purgatory
why couldn’t a leap from the Golden Gate
land you in Guadalajara?
POEM: Aomori (0)
Posted 1 March, 2010 in Audio Poems, Japan, My poems, Poetry, Travel
Listen to this poem using the player above.
Aomori
standing on the cliffs of Aomori
is like standing at the end of the world
one more step and you can take
a refreshing swim in the bay
if you survive the drop, that is
squint your eyes and it feels like flying
pine trees level with the top of your head
and the waves continuing their
thousand-year attack on the rocks below
I kept better notes than this
but they were lost in a flood
nothing so grand as the sea
winning that final victory
it was just that our washing machine
overflowed and submerged the basement
who would have thought
after a thousand years
it would be a load of laundry
that would finally conquer
the cliffs of Aomori?
POEM: Tsurumigawa (0)
Posted 27 February, 2010 in Audio Poems, Japan, My poems, Poetry, Travel
Listen to this poem using the player above.
Tsurumigawa photo by Ivan Kurniawan
Tsurumigawa
ironically, we lived along the See Crane River
it sliced through the rice fields
that were just steps from the busy road
Tokyo and Yokohama and Kawasaki
are joined like an urban Cerberus
between them, hidden bits of unexpected farmland
bent old women in worn rubber boots
knotted bandanas around their heads
slop through the wet paddies
reaching crumpled fingers into waving rice
and plucking out the o-kome
the flesh of their people
in Ichigao, our town,
the women could have walked
a mile along the river
and treated themselves
to McDonald’s french fries
or the Colonel’s secret recipe
of herbs and spices
a bloodless invasion
leaving no cloud in its wake
I don’t think we ever actually
saw a crane on the river
that bore the bird’s name
like Oak Glen or Forest Heights
the name is simply a reminder
of what’s been taken away
gold flecks in green tea
gold plastic across the street
from the train station
and the Colonel standing there
arms outstretched, smiling
beckoning the cranes to fly to him
POEM: Enclosures (2)
Posted 26 February, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry
Listen to this poem using the player above.
Enclosures
huddled under the umbrella
nestled in the sleeping bag
crouched beneath the spreading elm
encased behind the windshield
while the rain pounds
the hailstones plummet
the wind circles ’round
looking for a crack in the siding
it’s not an aversion to the elements
it’s the thrill of being protected
the joy at not being forced
into anything you don’t desire
POEM: Gerry & Lenny (4)
Posted 25 February, 2010 in Audio Poems, My poems, Poetry
Listen to the poem by pressing the play button above.
Gerry & Lenny
have the same vocal tic
an explosion of air from the nose
with the tongue in the back of the throat
each time it sounds like laughter,
a commentary on their own speech
then back or not back to the matter at hand
“I’m waiting for a Jew to turn Catholic!
Can you imagine a Jew submitting
to the goddamned pope? Jesus Christ!”
Like Lenny, Gerry stops in the middle –
in mitn drinen, they would say –
to tell stories and to follow tangents
Like Gerry, Lenny draws water from
a desert oasis and pours that water
into molds of his own design
“The Catholic Church has given the pope
permission to become a nun.
Just on Fridays, though.”
Gerry was born in Pittsburgh:
grew up with bituminous in his mouth,
ate the ash-gray snow
Lenny was born in Mineola:
within weeks, Sally was back on stage
and Lenny drifted from house to house
Gerry has been a poet laureate
and has won awards and prizes
and taught at prestigious universities
Lenny died on the bathroom floor,
syringe near his arm,
camera lens in his face
