Day: February 13, 2009

Lucky 13th

by

February 13, 2009

5:34 pm

Leave a comment on Lucky 13th

Musings on Extemporanea

The Sand Canyon Review @ Crafton Hills College is now accepting submissions for their 2009 issue. Please keep in mind the following guidelines:

– All work must have your name, address and phone number attached to the piece.
– Written work may be no longer than 10 pages in length.
– Poetry must be limited to 40 lines.
– All artwork is limited to 3 entries per person.

Submit your work to SCRsubmissions@gmail.com, subject header: SCR submissions

The city is swimming in glitter (seriously: someone dropped about a half pound in the entryway, and it’s been tracked up and down the whole building) and all the hoochies and lonelyhearts are out in their micro-minis and clunky big shoes. Too bad it’s pouring out, and their hair is soon going to be a raveled mass of sticky hairspray and ick, but c’est la vie. One for the road, then, and happy hunting, everyone.

Superbly Situated

by Robert Hershon

you politely ask me not to die and i promise not to
right from the beginning—a relationship based on
good sense and thoughtfulness in little things

i would like to be loved for such simple attainments
as breathing regularly and not falling down too often
or because my eyes are brown or my father left-handed

and to be on the safe side i wouldn’t mind if somehow
i became entangled in your perception of admirable objects
so you might say to yourself: i have recently noticed

how superbly situated the empire state building is
how it looms up suddenly behind cemeteries and rivers
so far away you could touch it—therefore i love you

part of me fears that some moron is already plotting
to tear down the empire state building and replace it
with a block of staten island mother/daughter houses

just as part of me fears that if you love me for my cleanliness
i will grow filthy if you admire my elegant clothes

i’ll start wearing shirts with sailboats on them

but i have decided to become a public beach an opera house
a regularly scheduled flight—something that can’t help being
in the right place at the right time—come take your seat

we’ll raise the curtain fill the house start the engines
fly off into the sunrise, the spire of the empire state
the last sight on the horizon as the earth begins to curve


Robert Herson, “Superbly Situated” from How to Ride on the Woodlawn Express. Copyright © 1985 by Robert Hershon.

Cold Heart, Strong Samurai

by

February 13, 2009

2:52 pm

4 Comments on Cold Heart, Strong Samurai

Poetry Friday

I feel like I’m just being immersed in words this month, which is a good thing, since I’m also being intermittently immersed in rain. At the moment, though, snow is falling, or maybe sleet, but it’s okay, I keep telling myself. I have no place to go, and nothing in particular to do this weekend. Most people would consider that to be boring, but with the wet and the muck outside, and the books inside, I see this to be a Really Great Thing.

I copied down this poem because… it’s not me. I think there’s a teensy riot grrl screeching mouse-like in my inner core. I wish this were me. Maybe it’s kind of like why young readers like fantasy literature; we wish to be powerful. If we were vampires, we’d be up all night, scare the crap out of the establishment, take insane risks with sunrise, be brilliantly sexy and of course — live forever. If we were witches, it’d be the same, except we’d have more power than to just eat people. And hey, if we had dragons…

So, I will muse further on my samurai; hard warriors with no time for anything but discipline and rules. As I said: so not me. But I like this poem anyway.

Samurai Song

           — by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made

Audacity my roof. When I had

No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.

When I had no ears I thought.

When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made

Care my father. When I had

No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made

Quiet my friend. When I had no

Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made

My voice my temple. I have

No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune

Is my means. When I have

Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment

Is my strategy. When I had

No lover I courted my sleep.

Listen to the author read this brilliant, cold poem and others here.

Why do I love this poem (other than the fact that Stephen Colbert said I should)? Its appeal to my inner warrior is strong, and it lures me into the idea that I can do something about everything. I can finesse the whole world. Or, barring that option, I can detach from it, and ignore it.

Which is a sort of power, too.

Maybe this is a love poem, to the self.

(I am strong. I am invincible.
I am, I am, I am.)

Poetry Friday is at Big A, little a. Thanks for visiting.

All content (unless otherwise attributed) is © Copyright Tanita S. Davis and may not be reproduced in any form.