Saturday, June 12, 2010

you've got mail

Ben Wannamaker, editor of Fodder Mag, friend, poet, activist of affection and dweller of my heart, wrote this for me(to me) in an email on May 27th, 2010:


Poets have
so much time
on their hands,
creators of terms
and humanization;

head anthropologists
of interrogation and
ringers of real
spirit and reasonability;

bar no one else opting
for a place in this place
where:

the
top
reminds
you
of
you

and

the
bottom
reminds
you
of
you

and

you
can't know
everyones
everything.

Instead we rely to
obscene degrees,
lie
on a sheet and worship
the time the small bolts
left stronger bonds in
the brain; search for our
salad days where things
sure to come never quite
became.

Making change off mystery

is dated.


Misery is peek-a-boo babies
that
don't
get
the joke.


Don't wallow or be afraid, get
flustered or increase the beat
of your individual blood flow;
or really, resort to anything.

Panic?

Why should that be?

We now know
there's no
such thing
as strange

rs;


it's true, the ones
before you lied about
that;

laid In parts, too;

in sheets
like one'll
be lucky
to not be capable of:

even saying

one

did.


And it's true:

we can all

be a pillar