doug draime | five (new) poems

Small Press Editor Gives Advice On How To Get Published In His Magazine

Write about
the fancy
shapes
you made
on roller
skates
when
you were
a kid, or

the color
of coffee
with cream
or without.
Mocha,
espresso, latte,
whatever.

Write about
the pubic
hair
of the
woman
who broke
your heart,

but leave
the
social
concerns
to Oliver
Stone
and the
fucking
movies.

Throbbing

never accept
some other’s definition
of why & why not
where & how many
when u
were the only one
there to tell the
tale listening from
the back room to
distortions of the
creation hearing
certain deceitful opinions based
on murky nowhere
assumptions talking
without taking a breath
into the cosmic intercom
spreading wide angled
lies of
major details of
locations & procreation
needed to clarify u
get a beat on target
to affirm direct relationship
of art to life life to
art as all around u
the lost world is
festering & throbbing
for the truth
of any moment.

Illuminating Information

They talked about “art” as
……..if it was some
……..perfect glistening
……..thing like a diamond
……..after the mining
……..and cleaning

I swept the floor
……..as they talked
……..I took out the trash
……..washed the dirty glasses

“Art” without the blood
……..and torment
……..Mickey Mouse
……..without the mouse
……..turds.

After they left I
……..cleaned the ashtrays
……..scrubbed the toilet
……..waxed the floor
……..did what I had to do.

“Art” had nothing
……..to do with their lives
……..“art” was a good movie
……..a concert in the park
……..created and performed
……..by people with masters degrees
……..and winter homes
……..in Arizona.

I clocked out
……..bought a couple beers
……..and went home
……..tomorrow was another day
……..of illuminating information

Literary Expert

The guy was an ” expert “
…………….on poetry.
He was a famous poet &
…………….the magazine quotes
him saying that a poem “can’t be
…………….totally honest, or it’s
……………………..not a poem.”
He said good poetry is partly
…………….honest and party bullshit
…..(I’m paraphrasing). He has taught
at a college somewhere in Iowa for
…..30 years & has
…………….20 or so books out,
& he doesn’t have a brain in his fucking head. But he
…..doesn’t offend
anyone & I’m certain
people nod knowingly when he reads
…………….those little gems.
Chances are he has never written anything close to
honest poetry & therefore, never had to risk anything,
…..except maybe in the “literary” sense
…..(whatever the hell that is).
Everyone has a right to their own opinion about
…………….what poetry is suppose to be,
even if they’re lying to themselves, because
of course, that’s what good poetry
…………………….is all about

More Details

The editor told me in
an e-mail
that my writing was
too much like Bukowski’s –
though, I think he
meant more the subject
matter: my years in
L.A., than the
writing. I e-mailed him back
telling him it was
never my intention to
write like Bukowski, and that
………I was writing long before
………I became aware
………of him. But
………that I had
read him a lot and would
never
deny his influence.
I also mentioned,
rather offhandedly,
that I had meet him a couple
times in the
mid-70’s. We lived about
3 blocks
from each other
for awhile.
He shot me back a
quick response saying,
“Now, that’s something I would
be interested in publishing. Send
me something about your
meetings with Bukowski.”
I sent another e-mail saying I would
think about it.
He wrote back, “More details
about the Buk!”
I later sent him a couple more
poems, but nothing
about Bukowski.
He published them anyway, figuring
I suppose, that I would
send something about Hank …
which I never did.
“The Buk” would have done
the same.