Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Feature: John Burroughs Day 4
Beer is a beauty
Beer is a bitch
Beer is a scratch for my vilest itch
An itch for my finest scratch
A down the hatch batch of high satisfaction
A recipe for extreme stupefaction
A flood disguised as a dream panacea
And whether or not I want to see it
A slow tide of suicide
The blue moon is high
And the beer sea is strong
As I down another and continue this
Song swell without a tune
This sickeningly sweet I scream sundown
Melting as I search
For a silver spoon that does not exist
In a glass of whatever's on tap
Fancying myself an inimitable wordsmith
While I wanly regurgitate yesterday's news
My blues rhyming with brews
And still thirst unquenchably
For the deluge to deliver me
To low dry land
And sober death
© John "Jesus Crisis" Burroughs
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Tell us one fact about yourself we might not know.
According to older members of my biological dad's family, I am a descendant of Jesse James. Though the official story is that Jesse died young and had only two children, my family's story is that he didn't really die (recovered from the shooting, went into hiding) and had more - and we came from one of those. But who knows? Even if you don't count that, the dad who adopted me descended from the famous Indian-killing general "Mad" Anthony Wayne - which is interesting because I've also gotta lot of Native American blood flowing through my veins.
Is there any one dead poet’s writing you particularly don’t like? I mean really don’t like.. like grates on your nerves don't like .. and why?
There's more than one. But I don't want my lack of preference to be taken as a put down -- I don't believe in putting down poets. And anyway, I find poems I like by everybody. In the past there have been several poets I didn't "get," or whose work I didn't like, and now they are now among my favorite poets. (Hart Crane is an example.) That's happened often enough that now when I don't like someone's poetry I consider the possibility that the problem might lie not with their poetry but with me. Who knows? Maybe in 10 years I'll love their poetry, too. And maybe when I'm much older I'll be much more comfortable in the role of critic or judge. But I'm not sure I want that.