I'm close to catching up, I swear.
John Wieners Advises Against the End
I met John Wieners last night alive as you or me.
On Joy Street the light backfired from windows
screened and shut against the lean wind thrown
up from Cambridge Street and the tea-house
we had dinner in, me & John. I asked him about
the Hotel Wentley poems and he gently brushed
me off. I have new things now, he said, showed me
a blank page with a ripped out newspaper snapshot
of Marilyn Monroe. Can't you see it? he said. It's, well,
it's not much but it's better than dying. We sat in his
apartment after. You're so cynical, he said, hands flitting
like a slowed-down hummingbird, like something that
won't last another moment. I want some ice cream, he
said. And watch out for your friend there. He motioned
to my silent companion, Death. His poems don't suit you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Paul Ilechko
Blood Blossoms What kind of blooms are these which linger into early winter survive so many nights of freezing temperature still thriving in...
-
Probably everyone knows this poem and this book very well. Kinnell isn't exactly invisible in the poetry world. I loved this poem and th... -
Line by line retranslation of Ashbery Waiting makes time democratic, you just said so Then a white horse ran by, repeatedly running back a... -
An Affair on Lombardy Street The landlocked Airbnb has a nautical theme and an irregularly shaped board nailed to one wall that might work i...
Your bio still refers to Night Train in the present tense. Sadly, I might add.
ReplyDelete