there are ghosts in these drop cloths which unroll unplayed, their holes uneaten, hanging out of place.
most always i’m the oldest person at these poetry venues. look about at people not mine, places not mine, loud music at least partially mine. doesn’t matter tho cuz i’ve never found a place i belong, or my people. poets always came the closest. i think ‘my people’ are the people who refuse to be with other people, so linger alone, semi-happy, in the moral shadows. as groucho marx said – i’d never join any club which would have me as a member.
we left last night’s open mic poetry venue after waiting 45 minutes for it to start. i’ve been in the poetry business 43 years now – when am i going to learn poets never ever ever start on time. when i get filthy famous and rich, i’m buying every poet on the planet a watch. last night was even worse because they were filming for tv – but basically for the 3 bands involved. when bands and poets interact, the poets get screwed. which is a shame since poets are much more important. we left and wandered london. would like to have been on tv, tho.
on the underground last night, i twice gave correct tube directions to places we haven’t been … to a jamaican and an afrikaner. they asked me, so i must look like i belong – must be my skeleton t-shirt and greek fisherman hat. fortunately i’d just deciphered the wall map to see where we were going – and they were going the other way. story of my life – folk ask my direction, then go the other way.
changed trains so many times, i told kathy we’d best leave a trail of bread crumbs to find our way back. she said, the birds would eat them. no problem, i replied, we’ll leave poisoned bread crumbs and follow the dead birds back home.
be back. i hear the little coffee pot orgasms as it finishes its liquid ablutions… ahhhh, there is life.
kathy’s going underground tube hopping today – ride the rails and pop up at various stops, see what there is to shoot. i’m staying here, putting her art and fotos up in her 1st agentofchaos.com art gallery. the lady is a talent. and i’m her champ tramp.
who are all these green floating faces anyway???