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

Monday, January 14, 2008

Monday Poem for Gabriel Gudding

Gabriel Gudding walks in an occupied airspace
somewhere above a piney copse in Washington state
& I know this because he told me
one of many wondrous things he told me whilst
salutationing the sun my ankle hurts so
that is why I salute nothing requiring anklebone
agility canine agility is on my radar but my small
black dog is also small of brain, tho nimble enough
sd a man riding my yellow bike, a man whose name
is not John. Gabriel Gudding does not wear Old Spice,
nor do I we are men in love with our own fleshy stink
that smells of tweed & rubbed leather &
airplanes crashing about our temples, then tumbling
down our cheeks. airplanes shaped like tears. we
tried not to cry then Mitt cried & Hillary cried & we
were waiting for Barack to cry but he didn't cry yet.
My torch is still lit and I'm crying proud airplane
tears for the men & women of the US Military &
for parataxis and polysyndeton how weird--
a bearded man in a leather jacket just now intruded
into my officespacearea and called me buddy & pal
then left muttering about his wife. the farthest reaches
of northern alaska. I mean, if you want to know
places I could live away from "so much fucking credit"
my dog barks at this because it's funny and Gabe's
road book is better than Kerouac and better than any
"fucking doctoral dissertation" in fact, he should be
awarded an honorary doctorate from one of the schools
that gave Bill Cosby honorary doctorates. I, as much
as anyone, love a good pudding pop. It's 11:42 on
a Monday. Hello, Charlie! Hello, Stacey! Hello,
it's me, Tony. Hello. Don't be alarmed, I'm only dancing.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

god. how embarrassing.

what do i do now tony?