Randolph Street Market 5.26.18

One of my favorite topics to receive: Dealer's Choice.  It was a particularly beautiful spring morning, and I was reading Louise Gluck's The Wild Iris. Holy. Shit. Those. Poems. Always been a Matins man m'self.

One of my favorite topics to receive: Dealer's Choice.  It was a particularly beautiful spring morning, and I was reading Louise Gluck's The Wild Iris. Holy. Shit. Those. Poems. Always been a Matins man m'self.

Another great title because it gave me an immediate rhetorical posture and form for the poem. This poem has since been revised to be itself a bit more. Turns out the title was best for the first draft but not for moving forward as it was somewhat limiting.

Another great title because it gave me an immediate rhetorical posture and form for the poem. This poem has since been revised to be itself a bit more. Turns out the title was best for the first draft but not for moving forward as it was somewhat limiting.

My first poem is usually always my most uninhibited - this was the first poem of the day. I kinda ran out of space at the end, and was generally struggling with my machine all session.

My first poem is usually always my most uninhibited - this was the first poem of the day. I kinda ran out of space at the end, and was generally struggling with my machine all session.

Poems While You Wait was at the Randolph Street Market, writing poems and ringing in the official start of the outside market.  Antiques, gumbo, furniture, furs, marmalades and reclaimed wood.  The typewriters fit in. 

I wore an aloha shirt and went to a barbecue later.

EPITHALAMIUM

What if we all could ascend

and be the love we wish to have?

 

What if we decided in this moment it’s possible

in this forever community sitting on rented chairs?

 

If I can be the man you all hold in your hearts—

lovely as the levity inside my bride’s eyes—

 

maybe any feat is possible?

If I can be more than a man and impossibly depersonify,

 

recast myself as this embodied moment

to be bouyant inside the eyes of a hundred loved ones—

 

we walk among earth flailing to anchor in passion’s treasured moment.

These eternal seconds whistle with the songs of our descendants—

 

waiting for us to gather in their small arms

this one-thoughted love will bring us more eyes to levitate within

 

We revel in the triumph

of the impossibility of forging a community,

 

the ridiculous business of renting chairs!

If our love could ascend

 

and be the constant wish to our ancestors that toiled to provide, if, only if!

We sit amidst four trees feeling the greatness of our families

 

forever boys and girls inside our bodies

chittering in the handles of our August garments winding up to celebrate

 

if I can be the man you hold in your hearts

I will take you inside of mine

 

my bride’s eyes levitate with our lives before us—

I can’t look away.


 

8.5.2017