~This poem first
appeared in The Bryant Literary Review
(2003).
“Prefer Slick,
Feverish Grooves Over Funky Backbeats?”
[seen in
an advertisement]
blessed rock’n’roll R
& B funk folk acid jazz
blessed Beatles
carnival barkers calling the modern era
blessed Doors Who
Grateful Dead immortal
noodling licks on
vinyl persistent as the low note
in my college
neighbor’s busy buzzing radiator
blessed Sam playing
along
“there’s a B-flat in
my headboard”
blessed Joshua Redman
saxophone a second
tongue whispering sweetest words in bed
blessed Rusted Root
rhythmic re-animators of jam-band jam
blessing the crowd
with dance shake mystery vibe
blessed locals Jeff
Roy Tyler Kat Mike Speedy John Shawn
Annie leaving to
return
savor diverse notes
catchy refrains
heavy metal blaring
moaning blues
frayed like an old
man’s movement into night tonight
a Celtic quintet
whistling bullets through
silk armor of a
woman’s voice
blessed Shenanigans
classic Irish sweetness
melancholia groove
& bounce
blessed Van Morrison
soulful tone suffering slings & arrows
blessed techno Moby
reggae Marley
ska la la da da de da
de
blessed Freddie
Mercury coy erotic reaching
“March of the Black
Queen”
blessed sultry Shirley
Manson “happy when it rains” &
sad to be in song
blessed blessed blessed
pipers in the summer
heat
center stage at
Calamity Cafe
vanished-bar nostalgia
welcome as the word ‘welcome’
blessed release
in chords chorus
tensing cadence
tribal as a movie
about the white man’s dream
of Africa
blessed background
score to my climax falling action
end blessed end that
hasn’t found me yet
Sartre’s silence
punctuates a symphony
defines as much as
first chords
solos arpeggios
harmony
blue notes blessed
blue notes &
violence in the
interlude anticipating quiet
for the blessed
listener’s blessed blessed ear
~This poem first
appeared in Poetry East (2003).
“So What Is the
Line Between Memory and Hallucination?”
—William S. Burroughs, The Adding Machine
We were in love; we
weren’t in love.
Our bodies focused a frequency
channeling the Divine.
How ugly we were,
& how beautiful, man
over woman, &
woman man. Our nights
lit up with candles,
jacks-o-lantern,
overhead lamps
cleansing the darkening pain.
She came in a wilting
anger; I held back with ecstasy.
It was the beast of
times, the washed of times,
scented in orange
blossoms, jasmine & vanilla.
Hands read the braille
on her skin,
lips drew blood from a
turnip. We were
in love; we weren’t.
Our eyes never saw &
never see the truth, a
phantom limb
recalled like a novel
read in youth.
*****
THE STORY BEHIND THE POEMS
In 2002, I began working on a
series of Q&A poems in which a question (with credit to the person asking)
served as the title and a jumping-off point into whatever world my brain
wandered. The questions at first came
from people I knew, and then from poems or novels I read, from spam e-mails and
medical questionnaires, overheard conversations, and the occasional billboard
or religious leaflet. Any time I heard
or read a question that struck me as interesting, I jotted it down until I
could find my way into the answer. The
results often surprised me, taking me places I could not expect and often
pulling memories from me I had forgotten or language I seldom used. I have played with many forms in the years
since, but I always return to the questions.
They have some sort of lien on the best parts of my subconscious.
*****
ABOUT ACE BOGGESS
Ace Boggess is the author of two
books of poems: The Prisoners (Brick
Road Poetry Press, 2014) and The
Beautiful Girl Whose Wish Was Not Fulfilled (Highwire Press, 2003). His writing has appeared in Harvard Review, Notre Dame Review,
Mid-American Review, Atlanta Review, River Styx, and many other
journals. He currently resides in
Charleston, West Virginia. His two poems
included here are from a third collection, tentatively titled, The Dreaming Grocer, which remains in
search of a publisher.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.