Some very helpful responses to the question of how to deal with the New poems from my New & Selected. I'm going to go with one piece of advice: if the poem *belongs* in my new book, it'll go in. And, as someone else pointed out, those poems already have a good "resting place" in Hey, Crumbling Balcony!
Got together with Kubsch last night. He wants to take over my blog and manage it. I'll still write it, but he'll be in charge. He says provocative things like that a lot. Perhaps he can elucidate his business plan here in one of his notorious anonymous comments. It was a fun time out, though, starting off at Las Iguanas and winding up on the rooftop of the otherwise thoroughly mediocre Paupers. Didn't have all that many pints, but I'm feeling it this morning. A bit of hangover mixed in with a dose of hay fever and a generous dollop of anxiety edging towards panic.
When the fuck is George W. Bush finally going to fall?
And for god's sake, would someone please clean my apartment!
Over and out.
george bush fell a long
ReplyDeletetime ago
but then the puppetmaster pulled
on his presidential strings
and whoosh!
he came to inattention
saluted the bloody flag
put his arm around a fireman
uttered something completely unintelligible
but more coherent than a bud commercial
bombed a few countries for breakfast
grinned an empty grin
flew to the ranch his daddy's money
bought him
and continued his windshield cowboy
sharade.
or you could think of him
as a dangerous cartoon
(rated DTTAH:
don't try this at home)
who stepped off the cliff
but hasn't noticed
he's 100,000 dead corpses
from the ground
...a mighty long fall for a little
wooden boy.