Composing Poems at the Beach

 

Composing Poems at the Beach

Wait.  Alan, you expanded the title 

on the chalkboard/whiteboard/

projection of words/through emails.

What do we think about this title?

Me, silent, it was easier to count seconds

than meter.  Alan you counted syllables

with your fingertips. Not ten. Trochee-ish.  Hmmm…

You advise, the class give feedback.  I write/type 

Trochee-ish in the margins of my work.  

Then you go on a five-minute rant on the history 

of the trochee and how the title talks to this poet and 

this poem that you knew from this conference.  

Hmmmmm….

I now have four minutes left in my workshop.

So back to the title.  Let’s think of the verb

Composing, is this a strong verb?  Hai,

raises his hand, “I’m not a poet, but I’d

want to know how you, I mean the speaker 

composes poems.”  We start listing off verbs; 

writing, dancing, singing.  I don’t write/type 

those options. Yeah all these sound great.  

Thanks everyone.  I look forward to your comments.

* * *

It’s another Poets & Writers Coalition meeting 

At Grandes/Pizza my Heart/Alan’s house.  I’m

thinking of verbs: crafting, painting…jizzing.

I laugh to myself.  Trying to justify a title.

Thinking of images during the meeting. Hmmmm….

There’s another bullshit argument. I go outside to smoke 

and observe back through glass.  TJ and Rachelle

going back and forth, Kevin and Hai drinking

and just shrugging.  Peter having to take

notes for all of this.  Alan intently listening. 

Shannon, Brian, Michaela, Michael,Sara,

and more I’m forgetting sit there, trying 

to eat pizza/french fries/drink water.   

 

Are we arguing over verbs again?  

My Marlboro light is halfway done until everyone 

is laughing, pointing at me like I shouldn’t

have been outside in the first place and

invite me back in.

* * *

Hey, what’re thinking?  I whisper back,

penis.  And we are laughing in this art room/

classroom/auditorium.  Alan coughs

to get our attention.

Five minutes and thirty-two seconds later

he finishes his introduction of the featured poet: history

of their work, what their work tackles,

how the collection is in conversation with the past,

how the collection is something we’ll remember

for the future.  We applause.  Wow,

Thanks Alan, that’s a very thorough.

I hear this again

        again

        again.

* * *

Alan, you ask me every time I visited:

housesit/light catch up dinner/light

Catch up lunch/discussion of legacy

Of poetry – have you heard from “x”

I tell you they are fine.  Give

as many details I know. Y’know

people move on.  We watch

The baseball game/the basketball 

game/Robert Haas appearing in a movie/

that one scene in Supersize Me

where a couple fucks in back seat

of a truck under a bridge.

This reminds me of a poem.  

Easy conversations.

* * * 

It was easier to keep you in

your flowstate than tell you

how I was doing Alan.  Tell

me about the poems you

read/poets you met/conferences 

and readings you go to.  

Yet, over the years we discuss

less about the poems you read/

poets you met/conferences

and readings you go to.

How’s the book? Another

question that could keep

you in your flowstate.

Then you asked the 

question back at me.

Short. Terse. Silent.

I don’t think I’m ready –

You have enough poems

published. I don’t have enough

time – then spend some time.

He knows.  He knows the real

reason.  Conversations time

after time of not wanting to be

read.  Not these sad gay boy

poems. Just be another 

forgotten language within

a forgotten language.

Get over it.  Get over it.

You’re a good poet!

You deserve to be read!

* * *

When you went on FERP, we started to lose

contact.  I, too busy to help with Legacy,

and you focusing on life after retiring.  

And when I couldn’t reach you through:

email/email/letter/letter/email/text/instagram

message/facecbook message, I knew.

I asked Vuong to help me put a collection

together.  Redo draft after draft.  

This is a Love Poem, Listen!

* * *

Pamela passed the message

that you followed me 

and am proud of me.

The collection did one

of the things I wanted it to do. 

* * *

In your hospital room.

You yell at me Sorry.

I respond in a whisper about being human. You interrupt:

Primal shout / barbaric yawp – Sorry.

* * *

I’m thinking of verbs.

Describe the action

of a line/poem.  What

do you want reader

to envision? Alan,

Sorry for the cliché.

Crying at the beach.

Crying at the beach again.

Crying at the beach.