It's National Poetry Month . . .

so I thought I'd put up a new poem that I wrote after hearing Michael Burkard read on Monday. His poems were, some of them, very good, and it turns out he and I are both fans of John Ashbery, that oh so hard to love sometimes wordmeister.

When I was in grad school, my friend Terry would sometimes says "yeah, but you like John Ashbery" as if that explained so much. Maybe it does. If you've never read Ashbery, he's no touchy feely poet. He's become more accessible, and some of his newer (last ten or so years old)poems have more of a presence or personae, or speaker, if you like that sort of thing. Some poems are just plain hard to read, allusory in ways the reader can't figure out unless in possession of a degree in art history (French), but always Ashbery has that quality that is uniquely his. Reading his early poems is like having a conversation with the late Ford Sweatnam, whose poetry was quite accessible, but whose conversation style sometimes defied meaning making, so you just went along with it and appreciated what you could get out of it.


Here is my poem:


Poem for John Ashbery and Michael Burkard

The poet reads his poems about poets, about events and objects.
And I raise my hand and ask not about the impetus, the push,
Not about craft or line length or the sway of the ocean,

But about you, my own poetic standoff, you whose lines defy
deciphering, you whose reference is aloof and sometimes off putting.
I cut my teeth on you at a time when no one knew me, and you and I

Seemed to have the same kind of cluttered minds, thinky syntax
Allusions to the long dead and never touched, but then we changed
And we came into our poems, our presence less hostile, more inviting

The sea sways
The trees are greening here
I still don’t walk the dog every day
I’m a cipher, code for the place
Where the rubber hits the road
Where flesh is still and still flesh
Oh, how the mind plays tricks on us.



I'd put up a John Ashbery poem too, but this post is about me, so I'll close by saying that I received a galley proof of Breadcrumb Scabs, issue 5, which will be out in about two weeks. They kindly published four of my poems, and I was thrilled to see them laid out. If you want to see what I'm talking about about John Ashbery, look at something like Daffy Duck in Hollywood next to My Philosophy of Life. Both are great poems, but they are very different. So, before National Poetry Month is over you should read a poem. Tomorrow I'll post the names of some great poets, and all the world will be righted if we read their work. I'll ask you to tell me who your favorite poets are too, if you're the kind who reads that sort of thing.

Until then,
Happy Thursday