I'm trying to finish this famous contemporary poet's
fourth collection, which groans under the weight of
all the glowing blurbs on the back cover.
The famous contemporary poet avoids rhyme as if
it was a downed wire--half grand mal seizure, half
pit bull off the chain and charging.
The famous contemporary poet writes a few poems,
carefully packed in vignettes, snapshots, and musings,
all the excelsior found in any packing crate.
In high school I had an acquaintance, this guy.
He'd toss out something cryptic and then wait
like he'd flipped you a Rubik's Cube.
Everything out of his mouth was a test and he'd give
you this bright smirk, like can you figure it out and
get to where I am, up here?
I would like to meet the famous contemporary poet
and show her one of mine, plain as the flat of my hand
when it breaks her nose and the blood comes.
I am trying to finish the famous contemporary poet's
fourth collection even though it's like watching a movie
with muddy sound, in dialect, no captions.
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That sixth stanza is really on the money. I think that "famous contemporary poets" are way too focused on 'contemporary" and "famous," and not focused much at all on the "poet" part. Even when they write something good, it seems as if by accident, like it's escaped from their brain when the writer wasn't looking. And much of modern poetry is as commercial and barren as the landscape of advertising and hype. Ignoring a thousand years of an art seems a little foolish to me. This poem, as all of yours, hits a richer vein, and tells a real truth.
ReplyDeleteA girlfriend from between my marriages is my famous contemporary poet, successful as poets can get these days though yet risen into the rarified critical stratosphere. Good for her, and I know how hard she's worked for it, how much she's sacrificed on a poet's earning ability. She had all the doors opened to her by English staffs eager for a hot female poet, and her publisher rarely gazes at any male poet. Nothing really to complain about that, but at our age the accomplishment weighs outsized to the life, an imbalance I just didn't have the nerve, balls, talent and heart for. Anonymity is sorely underrated and the dead don't care who's singing with them. And AFA you go, the only thing that separates you from fame is da breaks, because you're top-notch in the species. Doesn't help that no reads anymore, esp. poetry ...
ReplyDeleteOne of yours would put her to shame, no doubt. Sometimes when I've read the work of famous or popular poets I have this feeling like I am trying to choke down a thick, dry crust of bread. All the while scratching my head and asking myself "Why?" Why is this considered good work and why am I putting myself through it? Amen to this whole poem.
ReplyDeleteYour poems lead with a left jab, then right hook to the head, close with an uppercut.
ReplyDeleteYour poetry hits hard with a beautiful power my friend! It does seem weird how some famous poets get such recognition and they have only said what we all already have in the same old way. Your poetry always speaks to me and in a whole new creative way every time!!
ReplyDelete