Poem for Don

Donald is unafraid what a dude'll do in a town full of heroes and villains.





No difference:
Donald is the states, the states
across this nation. Don't you
worry 'bout me. I wouldn't worry about me. Donald is cop shoot cop I believe
I believe.

Donald is
the lemon of pink. Well well
well well well well. Donald is
1000 cities. Now the angels killed devils, hung them in the streets
& reveled

in the fires
of the bloodlust & revenge.
"A blue pain will come into
us all," the infant lisped. Soul rhymes with toes, Goethe with sleet. I have blue
gorgeous eyes,

gouged my
socket, with my left eyeball,
interested, I watched him
poke an unfiltered Camel through my blue pain, then smoke the cigarette.
I party at

3 a.m.
--alone, thank God.
Ah, with a valium from the
bride, it's the Devil I love.
The Devil I love & that's as funny as real love & that's as real
as true love.

1982 Mercedes 300SD

Shit, bitch: I own you!




Ah, yes, this is my new car. Nothing's happened to the old car, but the stable is growing. I love this car.

Tomorrow is my 1st workshop packet in Jane's class. Normally one gives the class 5-10 pages of po-crap to sift through, but I gave 14. My hope isn't to win the Pissing Contest, just to flop enough material on them so as to keep the 1st years from using my work as a soapbox for their horsecrap pet peeves. At this point in the game, all I want to hear is Yes, this works generally, or No, burn this. I know what I'm doing, I just don't know what people think of it--you know? Don't tell me what to create as an artist, just tell me it sucks/doesn't suck.

I don't know why, but I'm so, so tired.

Psychic pain, monsoon rain, school again, Joe fucking Mains

Back to school. All the first years seem to be, in order of % of population: a.) pussies; b.) assholes; c.) fat. There's a Quaker-tattooed-slam poet, a clogging skinny white guy (for those of us not from the south, I understand clogging to be tapdancing but more involved/more exciting), a kid who has the family name Life (I hope to god he's a posi-core kid), a kid from western Mass that by all accounts appears to be a sexual predator of fat chicks, and a fat chick (et al). I don't think anyone will be catching what I'm throwing, poetically, and personally, I plan to keep my head down and let the shit fly overhead.

The monsoon is my favorite time of year in Arizona. It's better down here in Tucson.

I miss you all. ("all" sounds so much better than "five dudes.") I've been not-dealing with some psychic pain recently, and that's really blown the keeping-in-touch thing (which I'm not so hot at anyway).

Soon soon.

Love

summer summer winter spring

Man, I'm ready for school to start, kind of. The new UA Poetry Center is opening this semester, and I'm really, really excited to slay in it. Right now, I'm trying to write poems around this lady's paintings, Julie Hefernan. You'll find one, above.

There have been a lot of days lately--this summer--when I've felt like I'm a waste of skin for being a poet and getting my MFA. Today, however, I feel very lucky: I get to read some of the most beautiful, life-changing books around, and then write about the meaning of life and all that crap. What could be better than being a visionary, even if no one's paying attention/you're a fake visionary?

I live here

Liz Ku was in Flagstaff to help Matt move a few weeks ago, and some christian kid asked her what she's doing in Turkey, giving her the opportunity to pull some imperialistic bullshit if she wanted to--score some Private Christian College Points--but she said, perfectly, "I live there." I like that so much. One neednt move somewhere to exploit the benefits/impose one's ideas on another place--they can actually (!) become invested in the place that they live. I've never really been intentional about that in the places I've moved, sadly. I think my circumstances in life traditionally kind of dictate that when I move somewhere I actually have to invest on some level, school, work, kid, but my moves have always been easy: other parts of Arizona or California. If I went to law school in Boston or art school in Providence or New Haven, would I actually get involved or would I just be putting in my three years until I got my degree and be out? (I think this is the sort of blog post that I'd hate to read.)