walk down this road with me
and hear me well
There is but one person on this earth
WITH MULTIPLE PERSONALITIES
Several billion to be sure
For here is the new leaves
Blades of glass
And I question its fragility
Where the line starts
Who cares
it started
Can I join Whitman
You bet
He asked me
And so did Joyce, Poe and Frost
and them all into one
The poem is not their preserve
and they have told me so
Poetry is a living thing
All can join in
And they would be angry and sad
if I and we falter or refuse
They reject being called Gods
Will I and there be parts incoherent,
unfocused?
Most certainly!
Blame it on the Pierides
As I dance with Erato and Clio
And dine with Calliope
before I bed with Hypnos
For they play hide and seek with the soul of the poet
Unmindful of who they speak to
They ask where are we now?
At what point in the line?
How long is the line?
How Long will it last?
Where is it going?
Can you see the entire line?
Where does the line go after one departs?
Who do we entrust the line to?
In all this, they are just as lost as I
Can a new epic poem be written
to fit in the Line?
And they all bang on the chamber door
saying better let us in!
Be mindful but not ruled by us
Penn your ignorance and stupidity
your foibles, follies and silly peccadilloes
Start as the child
Start racing before you crawl and soar mindlessly
The new elysian field has been cleared for you
So, get your kicks in route
Smash metaphors and similes
Mangle rhyme
Jumble, mumble, stall and stumble
Trust yourself to discover new forms
Perhaps lying in the ghetto or on the bodega shelves
Then wrap it in nylon and silk
Be mindful not to press or iron it
Hot irons scorch its fabric
Go and bag a piper with his nickels
Listen to his tune
A tune that is simple, merry, sad and long
Be careful not to buy in
Nab a policeman
And ask him about tea
Don’t loose your head in some cell
Go instead and catch a firefly
Let him wink you its light
it is brilliant, translucent white
Go hit a ball and run a mile
circle around
Go then and stand in the good line
Make all the love you care to
There is not crime in that
There is no crime in music
No crime in art and dance
And certainly none in poetry
even if the gangsta rapps
Mash your berry’s with your thumbs
‘till your fingers turn blue with a new lexicon
New generations need their own language
It’s a requirement of the time line
They drop anchors in a new
They will be free of the acid horns and green stool
And will be there when the stars melt down
They will be friends of the sparrow
Till three prime plus one to infinity
They will be there
To see Jesus eat a bagel
There, it has been said
And I will say more before I rest...
In the chilled dark night
Long, lonely, black
Snot runs from the noses of babes
My head is bleedin’
Some fuggen cop has hit me there
Upside my my head
Clonk!
In the twilight of man
his blood is piss
Oh lord I cry
My wine is gone
My bottle empty
and I am cold and hungry
The man in the Caddy spit on me
when I cleaned in windshield
The lady rolled up he window as I approached
her baby cried
The man in the corner of my brain
stumbles
mumbles
cries
My head is bleedin’
Take pity on me
Depression, recession, aggression
did this to me
For fifty cent I’ll leave ya alone
Hey you
Hey buddie
Mister
Come on
Stand in Line…
Asta Dido
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