Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Walking Poems: Poems Which Are Written While Walking

It's been a bit since I've posted some of my own stuff, though, super promise, I've been more poetically active now than I ever have been in my whole life. My whole life hasn't been that long the way.

I've been busy with the The Sexy Poets Society readings and blogs, and have been writing a lot of stuff for that. But I decided I might as well post some shit up for the feeling of permanence and completion. And because, well, I think they're neat.

Since most of my poems that I've come to really love have been formed as I've been walking (which is interesting as well, since I can't really write and walk at the same time - have tried. so "forming" them as I walk is a little more accurate, in case you're the kind of douche-bag who really cares about that. end parenthetical statement now.) around town, or up to the university, or to the coffee shop, or to work, or to take a piss on the street outside my house, I've come to cherish them more, and enjoyed looking at the poems as artifacts of my day to day interactions. I can look back at them and remember whatever instance I was referring to in the poem, which more often than not is a rather small and insignificant instance.

Here's two recent walking poems that I read at the last SPS reading (I actually read four, but I only feel like typing up two), posted here for your reading and giggling pleasure. I like these two because the first selection is SUCH a walking poem, like it's screaming "DUH I'M OUT FOR A MOTHAFUCKIN' STROLL", and the second one doesn't seem to reveal it's creation platform whatsoever.

Walking Poem #1
It's winter, but it's not really winter
I think
looking at the brown grass poking above the thin snow
at Riverside
but what I'm really thinking about is how
the grass looks like my legs this time of year
which only happens in winter
because I'm ashamed or something
I tiptoe down the ice and think of
something cool to say
The tryptych on the tips of their lips
crisply whispers a cryptic kiss
but I'm really thinking about
the old man coming out of the
old city hall carrying a wicker
I'd like to say he's hobbling on the cobblestones
but really he's walking
Cool picnic basket, bro. I think, literally.
I stop walking on the bridge
and pull out my notebook to write this down
And that's where we're at now.

While writing this I received
2 phone calls:
1 from my mom which I ignored
1 from Brett Cimbalik which went straight to voicemail
for some reason
but I called him back
and then finished writing this poem

Walking Poem #2: Written on Sticky Notes Which is a Bad Idea
Do you really think you can
hold me accountable when
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
I don't know what the
FUCK I'm doing?
this android lieutenant
would like to be briefed on our mission, sir.
Mostly classified, lieutenant.
But sir, my lack of knowledge may compromise the mission!
I said MOSTLY classified lieutenant. Have a seat.
How familiar are you with the star system
Why, only in legend, bedtime stories, sir.
Well all I can tell you is that this ship
will be landing on the mother planet, Grugathon,
in the star system Clapametheus in 2 nanolightseconds.
Egads! Pardon me, but that sounds out right fantastical!
Fantastic doesn't even cut it, Lieutenant.
We'll be seeing sights that would stop the hearts
of most 4, 6 & 8 chambered beings.
Sights that android, para-android,
mammal & Flagrant Beasties
can't even imagine. But more
than the glittering fields or the purple skylines
or segmented crystal waterfalls -
in the star system Clapametheus lies our
last hope.
It's the last frontier, Lieutenant. (sigh)
In Clapametheus, the children of Abraham make
their final resting place. Oh, but
unfortunately 2 nanolightseconds is long since over
and I'll have to power you off for the descent,
But, but, power me off?
When will I be turned on again?
I too must see Clapametheus!
Sometime, Lieutenant, sometime.

And all became black.
I'm lost and unsure who this
disembodied voice narrating is.
Am I alive still?
Will I ever open my metal eyes and input the last hope?
Will I ever walk the shores of Clapametheus?
I am the loneliest android.

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