Daily Archives: February 18, 2010

Solo show in Worcester, MA…March 7

It has been a while since I’ve done a solo poetry feature at the Worcester Poets’ Asylum, my home poetry reading of close to twenty years now.  The last few features I’ve done there have been Duende shows.   I think the last solo set was five years ago now.

So the chance to help celebrate the Asylum’s 20th year with a straight ahead set of just words is exciting, and I’d love to see you there, even if I have never met you.

Expect mostly new work and a few oldies. Might even put a chapbook together for the night.

Again, even if you’ve never been there and you’re at all interested in my work I’d love to have you there to help me celebrate the venue, the space, and the long history we share.

Plus, it’ll be the first feature of my 50th year…so come see the old man try to shake stuff up a bit.

Date:
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Time:
6:00pm – 8:00pm
Location:
The Poets’ Asylum at Jumpin’ Juice And Java
Street:
330 Chandler Street
City/Town:
Worcester, MA

Of course, if you can’t make it to this one, the “Show Schedules” tab on this site will always give you the latest skinny as to where I’ll be, alone or with Faro in a Duende show…so check back frequently to see what’s what.

Thanks, everyone…

T

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Dr. Feelgood

Bullets, blades,
torches, and nooses:
tonight’s prescriptions from
Dr. Feelgood.

Said treatment indicated
by symptoms which include
eyes narrowing at opinions
not worthy of consideration

as they seem to have been
derived from
a past that never existed;
repeated punching of talk radio

in the car; raging at
snide bumper stickers;
spitting
on the television.

Diagnosis: reason insulted
beyond reason, patience uncoupled
from motive, fear of the future,
visions of hate and oppression

returned to former levels.
Directions: take all weapons
and wave them in the street
until response is seen.  Then,

let blood loosely, spilling
as needed.  Lift sticky feet
and march to wherever the center
of infection is located,

and repeat as needed.
Prognosis: terrible, terrible
fires and eventual cold winds
over ivory and splintered bone.

Brains and heart decayed.
Limbs splayed on the wreckage
of infrastructure.  Love of the war
and the danger, the glee of scorching

and pillage.  Eventual
shame, ending in a final solution.
Signed, Dr. Feelgood,
master of the moment, prescribing physician.

No return visit indicated.

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About A Boy

A boy was an infant for a while,
then a boy.

A boy did not think he should be here.

A boy imagined a difference,
and it did not happen. 

A boy was menaced by his mirror
with a face that was familiar, so he changed it. 
But the face within that new face remained present.
The two had common eyes
and softened the same way
when they became melancholy.

A boy grew to disbelieve his mirror.
What he saw in there instead
was a movie. That actor
looked young all the time.

A boy learned to comb the actor’s hair
and to play his banjo.
He saw the actor’s wife
in the background, another actor.

A boy would sometimes pause the movie and ask
if what was before him there
was the difference he had imagined
and wished for when he was young.

Really, I couldn’t tell you, responded the actor.
I’m a stranger here myself. 

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