Shorts

I once belonged to a writer's network that cultivated the art of writing extremely short pieces. Members submitted 200-words-or-less pieces to be voted and commented upon. Cleaning my room tonight I found some printouts of mine. I thought I'd share.

"My Dinner Doggy"

From whence my dinner doggy?
Oh tell me, if I please!
The one who drinks 'til groggy
Then pees upon his knees.
The doggy I call "froggy"
Because I'm such a tease.
From whence my dinner doggy?
Oh tell me, or I'll sneeze.

His butt was 'pon a loggy.
'Twas just about to freeze.
His fur was much too soggy
His tail flapped in the breeze.
And crawling 'bout his noggy
Were sixty-seven fleas.
They'll add fine spice to "froggy"
When I scoff him down with cheese.

From thence my dinner doggy.
Now where'd I put my keys?

"Pizza Dream"

There is the dream of someone else. At first, I may be the star in it. That's how it gets my attention. The hook. There's coffee and pizza, too. But it's just to suck me in. I'm there for minutes, I get some pizza, then I turn into a dog or a cat and then the real dreamer walks in and takes over. Last night I turned into three blackbirds. I woke up with a splitting headache.

Why does this guy want me to be present in his dreams? I'm just present there, I don't get to do anything, I'm just an audience in the form of whatever fauna he's obsessing on at the moment. I don't know this guy. I don't want to know him. I should be in dreams of my own. I have my own wishes that need fulfilling. That should be MY cigar, MY railroad tunnel, MY leap off a tall building to certain death. That should be ME drowning, flying, being chased by an ax murderer.

Big Poppa E

Video Find of the Day

Then there's slam poetry. It's all about the judges, but chances are, you don't know the judges. So, it's all about the crowd, and you pray the judges follow the crowd, and you haven't got the three stuck up elitists in the room who will always do the opposite of whatever the masses would do. Watch this guy work the crowd. Also note that he is reading from his book. That pleases me. I could never perform poetry without reading from the page. I get a bad memory when I'm in front of a hundred or more strangers.

Big Poppa E - Falling In Like (Seattle Poetry Slam)



I'm tacking on this next one because I like the opening and I like what he has to say about people like me who like smooth peanut butter.

Big Poppa E - Ode to a Dwarf Planet (Omaha Poetry Slam)

Naomi Shihab Nye

Video Find of the Day

Late, because I was unusually tired last night and had to take a pre-column nap early. But predated as usual to satisfy the gods. The important thing is that I thought of posting this before midnight. The gods don't actually eat the sacrifice, they consume the idea of it.

Naomi Shihab Nye -- "For Mohammed Zeid, of Gaza, age 15"

I Love This

Video Find of the Day

Bukowski on poetry vs a good hot beer shit. "Good night, goodbye, and happy reading.'"

Bukowski: Poetry and Motion



OK. Well, then. We should hear one of his poems. Here's one. Not too representative maybe, but it got my attention on the spur of the moment. A 90s (?) poem for 2008 and a stupid election.

Charles Bukowski (dinosauria, we)

B-Poem

Video Find of the Day

OK. I admit, yesterday's poetic video find was a tad maudlin. Here, I'll make it up to you. Continuing our tribute to Poetry Month (and I don't think we can keep this up until Mayday) we have here a B-movie Beat poem, or more precisely, facsimile of a Beat poem. Check out the cast. Jackie Coogan, AKA The Kid, AKA Uncle Fester, on piano, or pretending to be. Russ Tamblyn, AKA Riff of West Side Story, AKA dog walker God to Joan of Arcadia. Woof.

I Feel Like Saying A Beatnik Poem 1950's B Movie Style

April Is Poetry Month

Video Find of the Day

And it's almost over. I have to find poems on video! Oh no, oh no, where's a poem, where's a poem? Here's a poem.

Johnny Carson - Jimmy Stewart - Beau Poem