Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Cassady VS. Bukowski...
I wish that people still found poetry readings interesting. Or poetry and poets for that matter. But nobody does anymore. I would like to be a professional poet. I would like to list that as my occupation. POET. Nobody would snicker. Nobody would think of Langston Hughes, Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman. They'd equate me to the young Kerouac, to Michael Madsen, to Ender Wiggin.
I wish that they would give gift bags full of poetry at The Oscars. Tsunami victims don't need poetry, but Hollywood does. I wish that the United States recruited poets as diligently as they do young, poor males to enlist in the armed forces.
I wish that Marvel published monthly poetry comics about super heroes.
I wish that delis wrapped their sandwiches in wax paper with poetry printed on it.
I wish that MTV actually talked about lyrics.
I wish for TV reality shows based on drunken poets.
I wish that Gary Coleman wrote a book of poetry called Whatchoo Writin' Bout Willis?
I wish that every New York Times Bestselling Author was required to include a mini book of poetry in their novels, because I want to read The Da Vinci Code in Haiku.
I wish we could all sit around and read to each other by candlelight like we used to back in the day, coming home at the end of the night buzzed with beers and words and sleeping the good sleep. Dreaming the dreamy dreams.
I wish that nobody ever invented the term SLAM poetry, unless it involved a reading with Michael Jordan or that old rap group ONYX.
I wish that somebody would publish the thousands of pages of the poetry that I now have rotting away in boxes in the garage.
I wish poets and teachers made as much money as J-LO or somebody equally as undeserving as that.
I wish that Microsoft would include MICROSOFT POETRY to OFFICE.
I wish that you write something tonight and cry while you do it, either because it's really, really beautiful or really, really bad.
Same thing, I think.
Snap your fingers you smelly beatniks.