Downtown Poet
writing from a cheap apartment
with the hefty drapes frequently
pinched
shut
to boast in obscurity
the Irish Catholic Boy
the Novel Rimbaud
sinuous
rust-red hair
notched
cheekbones
stupidly skinny
his sloppy scrawl on napkins
with a leaky ballpoint pen
imposing
digressions
panoramic
prophecy
gritty punk rock
hip-hop/no-wave
alleyway swagger
poetic propensities
reads reams of Rilke backwards
&
bottoms out
just
to transcend
as an ephemerist
a downtown poet
in a Chelsea coffee shop
always too late for breakfast
but always
early to the
side-spoon Shangri-La
it is that complicated sort of grief
to run with a gaggle of eccentrics
the comical foil
& then die a death void of ecstasy
**
It's poetry month! I've been avidly writing it, reading it and buying it up. On Saturday I took a road trip with my best bud to the South Shore and spent a little time nosing around in Lexicon Books in Lunenburg. It had a handsome poetry section and indications of the April celebration. I purchased a copy of 'Lunch Poems' by Frank O'Hara. Ironically so because it's been sitting on my Amazon wishlist since binge-watching 'Mad Men' (for the second time). It was meant to be.
I will be congregating at City Hall with the Open Heart Forgery crew tonight for their annual reading. I have five poems printed and tucked in my bag. I will only read two and like other years, will choose at the 11th hour (the above poem is included in my pile). I am looking forward to being in a room with like-minded folk, word smiths, creatives. I live for this stuff. Great way to start a week and end a busy Monday at the work desk.
Happy Poetry Month!
Write one! Read many! All poets!
In propinquity,
Nic
