"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes

Saturday, April 29, 2006

for Reb L.

Despair and heart-hurt is good for the blogging. I shall blog more and more.
I shall blog and blog and blog and write little nine-line poems for weeks!
I shall be shat upon by birds, a portent of fortuitous book publication and money.
I will drink pints of beer in glasses made for Belgian ales.
I will drink my thirty dollar bottle of Gewurztraminer alone on my dirty floor.
I shall eat Ethiopian food, swigging Tusker all the while as Neil Young plays in the bar.
Stuff is flying out of me at incredible velocity! What is it? It's just stuff.
The days are not as long as they used to be in California in 1978.
There is in all of this a pure note, a hushed huff, a piece of paper with lovely scribbles.
This becomes something to take to the beach; it is called Rebecca.

3 comments:

Peter said...

Oh this is a hoot! Love it. Especially the bird shit part.

Anonymous said...

Frank O'Hara wants to kiss you full on the mouth. This rocks.

didi said...

tony - I need to see if you can record this poem for the Goodnight show. Let me know if you need assistance. We are on deadline so if you can get it to me before Wednesday, I would appreciate it.

Thank you - Didi Menendez (didimenendez at hotmail dot com)