daddy taught me how to drown yellowjacks
with schlitz he let me sip on it a bit
then sunk the bottle half drunk in compost
steamy summer soil back behind the shed
held a stack of playboy, penthouse, hustler
cool slick pages smelled of old spice and dust
edges well worn, corners curled with moisture
just six, but i knew penthouse was the best
man at my father's second wedding, shit
faced at the reception: six martinis
and a half a gram did almost nothing
to drown the yellowjacks inside my gut.
12 Jul 09
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the red stallion was my very first beer
and i knew PINK, the porn 'zine, back in
high school. i slipped it in my backpack
with another german porn 'zine one
school day, left the bag on the grass
for a long while, and then they're gone
when i got back -- the porn, i mean.
my father inquired about them after a
few days and i was too scared to tell
wish i knew yellowjacks as well, but i
know of one very fine PC poet named
jimi 'slick' spinach.
this is a slick write, i must say.
and you stuck to the 10-syllable count.
you were a 6-yr old kid then? awww, man.
now those twoo are 10 syllables; and this.
thanks causeimbored, core
Curious about the title.
slick like summer, sweat, pages in a porn mag, the way one feels as everything slips away.
anything i can do to improve?i write these things in about 10 minutes as i lose attention for a poem very quickly, so i know it's far from perfect...
the italics move was really ok and you
don't have to pipe it down just because
some joe out of a hundred tells everyone
else in the threads and here it's lame.
besides, you always know what you're
doing -- well, that's just me saying that
by virtue of what's left in your poem
arsenal. i've also heard you'd been a lot
more playful with your posts in the past
and, i guess, departures like this one are
a natural occurrence in a writer's life.
i still find it playful, though -- at least that's
what my tongue tells me. the run-on trick
works well and is surprising. plus the sonics
in it, dude...alliteration and all.
could you possibly bring back your old
don't have any suggestions for it.
but i did notice the way you split the second and third stanza, in a way that let best read on its own, and man on its own at the beginning of the third stanza, which was hinted at with the compound shit faced ... worked well. because you can read it in jarring ways, something you did throughout the poem with slight but consistent and logical variations on the usage of punctuation, as well as the actual composition of the poem ... which actually makes this a silk a read.
typo. "silk read."
which it is.
buff poem, so rare around here...no comments to improve...I hope you write a poem about pooping yellowjacks one day and the problems of big buttons.
thanks for the comments.
if i can find my old poems sure fractal
Any more ideas/comments?
excellent...with a strong voice yet acknowledging your inner six year old.
i have to say, i really like it the way it is. no need for change needed. it elicits just the right childhood memories and the discomfort of your father's re-marriage. also the progression of those taboo habits we tend to pick up over the years. nicely done.