Saturday, May 8, 2010

STOWAWAY

Writers Island #2..prompt is Stowaway.....this is a draft


STOWAWAY

it was the poem I needed to complete my beat collection
it was everything I wanted, my only affection
finer than Corso or Creeley in black and broken glasses
I snuck in to hear the reading
a beat poet school for bohemian stars stowaway

I demanded their attention on the star ship of bewitchment
with help from Burroughs and his magical enhancement
I was around to save the night, with a touch of whiskey
from New York, Frisco, LA
a beat poet school for bohemian stars stowaway

beneath the mask and cracked makeup and runny ice cream
where the beat poets meet jazz and the dancing queen
putting faith in hidden stars, blind pigs and whiskey bars
old jazz clubs to ryhthm guitars
a beat poet school for bohemian stars stowaway

13 comments:

Marja said...

a beat poet school for bohemian stars stowaway Very original

Rob Kistner said...

Very f#*king cool Wayne, very cool indeed. I think I've been there, think we should meet there -- how the hell can we get back there... how?? I loved this piece, and if this is a draft, you better have damned good ideas before you change it... it is killer...
...rob
Image & Verse

Rob Kistner said...

Wayne, you keep a look out on your front porch this summer. This old hippy and his teen bride may just sneak across the border, climb both the Cascades and the Rockies -- and end up in your font yard... ;)

elv0620isr_cadena said...

Nice post ~ 3Q..............................................................

Dee Martin said...

I could almost smell the cigarettes and hear the fingers snapping :)

Linda said...

"beneath the mask and cracked makeup and runny ice cream" is devilishly delightful. Beat Up.

http://lindagoin.com/

flaubert said...

Excellente' my friend Wayne! Cool poem!
Pamela

anthonynorth said...

An excellent image. I want to be there.

Paul Oakley said...

I was around to save the night, with a touch of whiskey

I always enjoy your reinterpretations of Beat, Wayne!

rallentanda said...

Did you know that Burroughs shot and killed his wife trying to shoot an apple on the top of her head when he was stoned.He was playing
at William Tell.

Stan Ski said...

Reads well - I'd love to hear it recited.

Jill Zaheer said...

Great poem!I can hear the jazz in the background- with a tempo that sways to the nights naughty rhythm of ramblings and readings of punk poetry samplings- page by page and then the mornings' suns' rays spray light above the hidden moons' sways.

novaheart said...

Very cool! The beat feel, but with a slight taste of some overkeening tension. Thoroughly enjoyable. You really don't have to do much, if any, work on this.

Also make me smile because as an undergraduate I took a class with Creeley. And I have a couple of his books right on my desk here.