The fine staff of the Good Men Project selected one of my poems this month. You can read it here. I don’t know if I channel Thoreau or not, but I was certainly thinking of an adventure at Walden Pond in college. We’d hit Concord by train, a short ride from Boston. We hiked the rails back, and crossed over into the park and stayed the night. Hollering and looping like fools in the moon and brisk fall air. Ah, good times. This poem isn't about that. That's a different poem. This poem is about chores and finding some connection to earth. Working on the lyric. That's all. A song in minor key. Peace.
A Passion for Apathy: The Collected and Rejected Poems of Vittorio Carl i, a small press gem of punk rock poetry, carries poetic traditions in its teeth. Punk rock because of the in-your-face-anti-establishment irony and earnestness in Carli's presentation of his verse, traditional in the homage and muse tradition of poetry. He writes to and for those and that which enlarges his voice. Carli's work reads like a cross between cultural commentary/homage to persons as varied as Lawrence Welk to Woody Allen, to snapshots of socio-political unrest, which are flags of protest. My favorite is the “The Trouble with Librarians (for Andrea)” where Librarians are cast as the progenitors of closed information; they are “all closed books/with a couple of pages missing.” He's a poet, and I imagine him in some stacked room typing madly, or in transit, to and fro Chicago, scribbling on the back of brown paper bags. He works it. He's out there living poetry. Proof. My copy of t...
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