Monday, January 30, 2006

Poem Ten


Children’s traffic park; Pondicherry

If you don’t look left and right
there will be nothing left to be right

for you. Crushed under a demon’s foot.
The traffic such that they blur, left and right.

Asked to leave Auroville for hushed laughter at uptightness,
they left, but it didn’t seem right.

Prohibitions don’t work that way, clearing what’s
wrong away so what’s left is right.

This beach is foreigners only. Rock hard Indian
security men ensure that. Nightsticks. Just

French flour thighs left.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

I don't know wht to make of this.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Congratulations, Bog Face!

Tonight Blade and I went to ReBar for UKELOOZA 5, a fundraiser for Rain City Projects. It was fun in the way that things that you have no idea what to expect but turn out to be great are fun. Bret Fetzer was a lively auctioneer and it was exciting. Blade bid $74 for a $75 gift certificate to some restaurant called The Stumbling Goat (keep meaning to go to that Jamaican place on 2nd where they serve goat...) and she won, so that was funny. The Vis a Vis Society were pretty great. Perhaps most exciting, however, was the announcement that Rain City Projects, a great organization that publishes plays by Northwest Poets, are starting this thing called the Manifesto Series in which they have a nationally recognized playwright write an essay, a "manifesto", about which direction they thing theater should be taking. Then they choose six plays by Northwest writers that they think illustrate the points of the manifesto. Anyway, for the first one Eric Ehn (one of the few contemporary playwrights I've heard of) selected Bog Face's play "Stray" of only six out of the one hundred and ninety nine Rain City has published so far. How awesome is that?

Rat Cat Hogan's new album "Farm and Swim" available from Skroki Records.
It is really good. Buy it.


Congratulations Snake & Kim! Welcome Theodore "Thor" Hildrebrand-Faust.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006


I'm in a blog funk. But don't give up on checking in, please.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

This Poetry Contest seems really cool. And the entry fee is cheap! (Thanks,
Lorcaloca--a past winner--for directing me to it).

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Poem Nine


Madurai, India

Those smooth leg, hairy leg, sticky details
of the slowly explosive touching
ending the modeling session

for this sign suggesting women showering here
dress à la Miss
Illicit Nightclub
Bombay 1966,starched-to-high-goofiness shorts for the gents,

out from those parts of his job
the attendant figures it’s simple survival
to mouth-breathe through,
black clogs, the clotted mop, knotted muscles
shot through by the red arrow
labeled No. 2 pointing at the dim part,
the squat latrines. But those figures,
ultimately sexless,

cling to their clean nameless distance
of personal soapy spaces and resist

his scrunching together
the lobes of his brain
to make them touch from each otheryet
another reason to shower.
And as rupees clink in steam of soapsuds gone to stink,
bell timers jostle his concentration blurry back
to business, back
to soul,

bare breast visions sheared clean
by a blinding slice of Lord Jagganath light,
and the visiting temple priest from Allahabad’s head
suddenly a torch at being poked like that.

Tonight out back
stray brown dogs
will warm wormy stomachs
on the fire built from whatever scraps

of cloth he’ll find left in the stalls.
Dust, ash, the woven mat his dreams forge
into a bed of nails
from which he’ll rise all holes,

all injuries absorbed,
snooty doubters
finally forced

to consider seriously
his claim:
“Clean feet, worthy armpit pilgrims.
Without me, the temple loses meaning. Our

Lord’s dignity,
dirt. ”