| Implications Poetic |
| Somewhere (along the way) i found myself addicted to the word � not quite three packs a day but enough to be a chain poet. Tried to quit, used essays and novellas like Nicorette. i went occasionally cold turkey but i can�t stop anytime i want. Something about the poem has steeped my blood in the cold angels of addiction. i want to sue �Big Poetry� for advertising to me as a child. How should i know? at five that at twenty Dr. Seuss and his slick Cat-in-the-Hat advertising campaign would have me dragging a disheveled, track-marked body to coffee bars for that next beatnik flavored hit. Sure(ly) Whitman and Frost knew the images they inveigled would have me waking up with the sHAkeS driving to the local library at 6am to read Cummings before i could even consider digestion. The Executives must have/had some idea. My work is lapsing because i pause during meetings to jot down the most deceptively attractive metaphorical phrase. My health is shot; i sit all night in cheap diners eating putrid food and chugging coffee to stay awake and smoking to calm the jitters. My sex life is improved actually, but only because my lover�s another addict who likes to fuck after we get high on Ginsberg�s air-raid siren stanzas. i�m WARNING you: watch your back. The poetic cartels and their minions of verse plagued junkies are out there spreading the word like a venereal disease. And it may feel good but only the first hit is free. |