i am NOT a poem (ivica)

8/9/2019 i am NOT a poem (ivica)

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( i am a poem

ivica

NOT



we are people

a parade bold and polite

they...are playing a waiting game

he is Jacka working-man

shouldering his barrel in life

oaken and full and lonesome

full of the only thing he values

in their world: himself

she is barely a girl

hardly a sinner always a surprise quite a woman

I am not some words

and YOU are just a dream

a welcome relief, a tight unexpectancy

among the squirrels among the maple trees

but sometimes

when we're all (alone)

just for fun (and tax-free)

for a change that makes us SMILE

not for laughs (they're too cheap and loud)

we switch roles (eagerly)

were not just things on a thing

but in the end....

i am NOT a poem

you are JUST

(a dream i carry with me)

and i am NOT

(a poem)



there's no woman---

like the beauty

of a rebel-womanwaiting

leaning against some ruined, old hotel

for tourists

(food for the baby...water for washing....)

tired

the mor tars came

like a returning plague

(maybe...they were always there...waiting in the back-streets...counting...

another witch-hunt, burning-skin again....)

and she can smell

another faceless winter stepping closer

shock

sometimes her body just cries out the sweat

and the outside world keeps humming along

busy selling paper for bonds

for electricity for steel for bullets(enough is enough)

don't whisper in young Joan's ear

don't kindly explain to Mar y

and don't even tr y to tell Eve

that there's a war going on....



canadians aren't americanseuropeans are not italians

(e gatti non sono cani)

wise-guys

arnota computer programmers

bingo-chicks aint never no hockey goalies

and trains R-not planes

but some of themat twilight

on a loosely holy day

when the cops

(who are definitely not art teachers)

ain't lookin', but are sure busy dunkin',

and the hour

(which is not an eternity)

is suddenly special...

well...then some of them...

sure enjoy...

CanadianSCanadianS

the happy confusion................



a silk diamond un diamante di seta adamas bombycisa silk diamond in the city of night in la città di notte urbs noctis

but this time ma questa volta

with a big bag con un grosso sacco cum magno saccofull of stones pieno di sassi

come with me vieni con me mecum veni

for just a couple of nights un paio di notte

jump on my milk boat monta sulla mia barca di latte

honey girl mel puella

you're a hundred times cento volte

prettier piu bella

than any other skin bones

we're all lost siamo tutti perduti

but sed

with your silk and my diamondwe noi nos

can

fly

(better than any old city farmer....) meglio

((can you smell the wet air...bite the soft stars....))



a present:water words

(to fill my greedy pockets)

handful after sweaty handful

the accepting

is (also) a present

chickens

in the factory

en attendant godot

trains

join together

sliding sausages

truthbreaks the boundary

a strong new wall

coffee

under the sun

the tree in me



i prefer bums

to bikers or salesmen

why do the bums like downtown so much

when ever ything's cheaper in the suburbs?

(the houses.the wives.the synchronicity)

bums like company and

bums like other bums (cherr y red is nice)nearby

like they think they're a religious order

or a cyber-city

so i grabbed my blonde-babe and

we co-grabbed the subway to go downtown

for some over-due mischief

(she's a proper (delicious) terror:

whenever she wrecked 'em: she bought 'em)

we got on where the line stops

and this normal suburb-chick got on too

i nudged my little love:

the well-dressed chick was STANDING

in an almost empty (except for us)

subway car

(if picasso could only see her now....)

downtown at the old eaton centre

(with the ads: come see toronto)

we saw drummers with garbage

cans+living statues+los incas

(exactly the same ones we saw in paris)

and there was the subway-chick

standing in her new, filthy work-clothes

begging and bumming on a busy corner

(i confess: i was: surprised)

she looked right past us quicklywithout even missing a bum-beat

i guess bums have a job to do too

i guess politicians are necessar y

(just like whores in a farce)

i guess they're guessing too...

like an e-note

droning....

i guess the world comes at me

in distinct packages

(and they're all wrapped up for comfor t)(all the packages:

bums+bikers

+salesmen+whores

+babies+grannies

+uniforms+suits+nudes

+me+you (of course))

bums...

where would we be without them....

(but don't ask me)



shir tsi don't normally iron a shir t or two

i do 10 or 12 at a time

it gets done and i'm free

for a couple of weeks

so last night, with one clean ironed shir t

hanging in my closet,

the shir ts said: what's the matter?

don't feel like ironing tonight?

go away don't bother menot in the mood tonight?

is the magic gone?

leave me alone, i tell ya (you¶re such a pain)

are you ironing some shir t at work?

so i got out some german beer,

the spanish movie star ted,

and i ironed 8 dress shir ts, 2 denim,

and two others i should throw out ver y ver y soon

poor sultans,

poor mormons,

and poor roosters

imagine a dozen do-you-really-really-love-me's?

a dozen wives? on a dozen diets? with a dozen roses? each?

a dozen new hair-dos, all with new dresses?

can you even imagine a dozen mothers-in-law?

i'm getting...a terrific headache

shir ts



i saw Elvis

in the great greasy supersuburbs

(trading his Tupelo voice for their Las Vegas pills)

i saw Marilyn too

posing

as if Everyman loved her true

there was Thor in a passing limoi saw Bogart: tough, human, flawed, hatted

and King Lear solo,

raging against women

and the world and the weather

i saw a tall Ringo abandoned

Julius surrounded

T. S. Eliot etherised

and Jacqueline Bouvier all of the above

i walked around

the new sacred malls

the happy barstimeless streets

then i walked through the old neighbourhood

where my school used to be

and there was Mary Tyler Moore

smiling like only yesterday can

and Mary gotta pay the rentman Magdalene

Yoda and Einstein staring at each other

(some people are eternal)

((some things we do and feel are not exactly

unique))

i saw Dracula dreaming darkly

and Gandalf smoking, planning his escape

i watched an Olive Oyl chatting up a Sherlockand a Norm and a Cliff arguing about

whether they should eat or drink next

some are firm believers

and some are merely playing along

until the bell sounds anyway

there was good, old Big Bird

corporate Pele

and Cher sharing

i saw Barbie tooi swear it was her

I swear it was him

i saw Jack the Ripper, desperate and thirsty

Cary Grant, so cool, so lucky

curly Shirley Temple and hustling Pete Rose

who proudly only ever read two books

just look around for yourself sometime

if you don't believe me

Superman dancing

with another Cinderella

answers lie (simply) everywhere

a couple of Laurelswaiting for a Hardy

Mae West and Mr. Clean

lonely on the same public bench

and Mother Theresa, Lucy and Groucho

my God! the people i saw!

(the things i've done!)

i saw Elvis(the show must go on....)

(the show must go on....)



(

(c)ivicapodnar 2010

i am NOT a poem (ivica)

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