The Power of Powder

THE POWER OF POWDER

luck hangs around at late

evening when there’s no way of seeing through

the double-glazed image of my face

or torso, slow shoulders-

as GO-GO and sunny and known yet

all in the way that reservations are

made for me then slide from me; I don’t know anyone here; everyone here

has been here forever,  in becoming seasoned

made the carnival graceful

and in giving us no tools, once penetrated

how exactly, does

the body weep?

& in giving you no clue this

is how I exhumed a daydream.

I’m giving you no depriving

you of ontological ground then

confiscating the sand leftover.

I’m giving you no looming

you but strapping you down

to a fire safety regulation.

This is pretty great.

THE HIGHWAY CODE

Tourists pass without saying, or they brush

off on your shoulder, but with everything coded

to the hilt it’s too obvious, to make friends,

to make friends, I dragged you up the steps of the town square,

and there we are, I’m heckling down a speakerphone

and you’re being heckled it’s a gross inconvenience so consider what

duty you shirked this time.

Each pillar fortified the

charge held down on your ankles and wrists.

It was revolting, & I felt it down the speakerphone, & tasted it too.

*

It’s worse than an in-joke it’s worse than me spilling red

wine on your carpet it’s worse than having to sit

in the aisle of a train carriage it’s worse than having to sit it’s

worse that you never came back let alone that you went worse

than ‘chow down’ or ‘gimme some cover’ it’s worse for me it’s

worse on me

*

So I’ve dragged you right up to the podium

what formaldehyde animals shall we impersonate?

*

It’s worse than all of nature, as if nature still held its grip,

worse than homeless ponies or cats run-down it’s worse

it’s worse, worse than my take on your phenomenology the worst

of which is coming to terms with my own daydreams it’s worse

than coming home to an empty plate & worse than the last love,

I would like it in fractals but I receive it wholesome in a healing globe

New Journal?

Harry Godwin has an idea for a new, very COMMUNAL,  poetry journal – you can find it at his blog here. It would involve a multitude of editors and geographical locations (hopefully). I think it should be always open to unsolicited submissions too. So you don’t have to know someone to get in there. A few poets have suggested it might be named something like Cleaves or Cutter…

The Escape by Jo Ann Wasserman

One of my favourite books – you can get it from FuturePoem.

http://www.futurepoem.com/bookpages/escape.html

I thought I should start a blog…

I was just reading an article on ‘The New British School’ by Kent Johnson, here.

Geraldine Monk , on the UK Poets Listserv, pointed out that women poets have largely been left out of the mix. Having long ago noticed that boys are more often making themselves and their opinions heard on the internet – I thought I’d start a blog. So there!