Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Thanksgiving poem of unalloyed gratitude and thnx (Inpsired by the first chapter of Marcus Aurelis' Mediatations) for those I love most in this cartoon comic strip bubble of reality (see b'low):
Thanksgiving canticle of Gratitude &Joy…
I’m thankful for leather wristbands,
cool jewelry, my baja that comes replete with a hood
And for my cowboy hat which I always
wear as I amble aimlessly into the woods
I’m Thankful for religious freedom, gay
rights, scraping by to afford rent
and for a good cup of coffee, scattered
autumn leaves, Lutheran hymns and menial employment.
For cigars, country music, hoppy
ale,St. Mary’s cemetery at dusk, the
calligraphic sight of a vacant tree bough,
And how this time of year the sight of a
barn or wayward corn husk still destroys me, even now.
For soccer moms with short hair,
internet recipes, drivin’ through backroads the sun a splattering yolk
And for the waterfalls at Mathieson state park,
Amazon dot com and for practical jokes.
For getting a text from a distant friend,
going out and hearing live tunes,
And for celebrating BLOOMSDAY (with
copious vats of Guinness) in the middle
When the waning light settles much later
than on the silver November horizon, as if on a lark
I’m thankful for ten mile runs through
the meadows of Bradley environs and for the Lagoon at Glen Oak Park.
For local art openings, open mic poetry
readings where we caterwaul and the audience shouts;
For late-night partying, chain smoking
and loose-loined women who gratuitously put out
Drunk and Scratching, limbs spread akimbo as
if a wide Sargasso sea
ForSports Centers top tenand that I
witnessed (first hand) the glory of the Chicago Bulls dynasty.
For health and good organs, my liver,
resilient, as if peeled from Prometheus when tethered to a rock.
For French pressed coffee on Sunday
mornings, reading the New York times while listening (LOUD!) to JS Bach.
For hot sauce, pomegranates, a slice of
cucumbers in Pimms cup, and for grated
Colby jack cheese.
I’m Thankful for Moosehead, Denis
Johnson, and overdue ATM fees.
And for those philosophers I go back to,
even now more so
Esp. Wittgenstein, Immanuel Levinas,
Battaile and Maurice Blanchot.
And for literature, Whitman is to autumn
as Chaucer/Boccaccio is to spring
And for the searing intellect of
Brianne, Hollyee, Daz, Mileece and sexy Barbara Antoniazzi
Books like White Noise, READERS BLOCK, The Sun Also Rises ( about a
I’m thankful for George Saunders, James
Joyce, Lorrie Moore and my mentor the late David Foster Wallace.
For Robert A. Johnson whose book “We” is
the greatest mediation on romantic love that I have ever perused,
I’m thankful for the women who inspire
me to write, the obligatory poetic muse
Timeless creations like Cheri Lee,
Valena Jackson,Megan Sow and Arya
And how nothing beats cookin’ homemade
sweet potato soup on Saturday night, smoking my pipe while listen’ to Prairie
I’m thankful for TWIN PEAKS, for cheesy John Hughes 80’s
movies the Breakfast club, sixteen candles and Ferris Bueller
And for cool neighbors, Melissa, Cliff,
Roger and (intellectually riveting) Samantha Mueller.
I’m thankful for my writing desk,
pummeling into the keyboard as if dueled-jousted into a fight
I’m thankful for the way in which my
apartment catches the time-signature cradled in light
Like a Vodka screwdriver, so orange as
if to be considered tangerine;
I’m thankful for those I love who have
added meaning to my life, exponential human beings:
and Kelly whose wedding I severed my long wild man locks
And even though Ozzie’s gone, I’ll
always be thankful for my eternal White Sox.
For my cousin Larry who is a rockstar and
has been clean and sober now four years
And even though I imbibe too frequently
I’m so thankful for a good cold beer.
I’m thankful for guy friends stuck
together like metaphysical epoxy
Like Mcreynolds, Mike Nelson. Kyle and a
bad-ass writer, named Roxy
Grappled friends whose adoption tried,
quote Polonious, who would always be true
Such as David Thompson, Duck Mccover, Jasna,
Diane Happ and Mark-Andrew
Friends’ I’ve been blessed with whose
loyalty just has never failed
And how, après twenty-five year in my
life how thankful I am to still have my best friend david Hale
I’m thankful for Mike, Jeremy, Claire,
Andrew Gary, Lil’ Phylica, all of whom now have passed on,
And how cool it always is to sit back
and have a few beers with Jacob Long
Friends I love dearly,whose rapport will never be severed
And that ( angelic-creature) six years
ago who simply gave me the “Best Thanksgiving ever.”
I’m Thankful for late night writing jams
to Metallica ( oh where would webe sans Lars???)
Mike’s stand up which for years was stag
and served cold brew from an oak barrel cask
Champs West where the poets’ congregate
to drink beer while songwriter’s carol, basking in
Folk songs, while Gavra Lynn and Shannon
Moore will serve you twice and not wince
The (seedy) Getaway and Jimmy’s where
nothing beats drinking a Black and Tan compliments of good ol’ Vince.
And all the girls at the Tartan Inn who are
admittedly good lookin’
Friday nights at the Owl’s Nest where
(everyone is family) you just can ‘t beat Joe’s cookin’.
For my overtly overpriced college degree
ferried on laurels, impotent tassel useful as burnt Halloween plastic-ring spiders,
And for those days I just want to watch
sports, drink cheap beer and eat (inane) amounts of White Castle Sliders
And whileit ended up heaped in frivolous streams of
plutocratic lies and political controversy
I’m so blessed for the time I spent
teaching, reading, working and writing at Bradley University
Who fired me claiming my prose was
fraught with obsessive allusions to ass and tits
And how humbled I was when Natashia Deon
invited me to be a part of Dirty Laundry Lit
Partying in Hollywood drinking a beer while
carousing down the noted Boulevard of noted Fame
And God damn after twenty years how blessed I
feel to come into contact with the ravishing Sarah St. James,
Who touched my hand in a bookstore
aisle, presaging that a writer one day I would be,
I’m thankful for my readers’ and that
I’ve been granted the opportunity to entertain my glorious souls such as cool Kristin, ravishing Suzette, numinous Brian,(can’t stop licking my husband)
Becky and my poetic brother Larry Bradley.
For radiator heat, pissing hot showers,
a shave with lots of lather,
And even though he’s been gone now ten
years I’m so blessed that I got the opportunity to really know my father.
I’m thankfulfor artistic ambitions, wayfaring wishes and
dreams that perhaps will never come true,
And how the highlight of my life (baby)
was when I buckled my arms around yer waist and was granted the privilegesimply to park bench hold you.
So this Black Friday while indulged in
the materialistic neon rash that is commercial living,
Take time remember that it is not only
the thanks, it is also the giving
To something greater than ones
individual (intellectual) druthers
And to know somehow that its not about
you, but it’s about “The Other”
Emptyingthe interior of ones chest dry while asking for no return
Like Kerouac’s Roman candles, “the only
people for me are the mad one’s who deeply burn burn burn!!!”
So happy holidays to those people who always inspire Me to write every day, you are the forever flicker in mycreative fire…