Saturday, February 13, 2016

The Day Frank Came Alive

It is 11:05 in Khon Kaen a Tuesday
five days before Halloween, yes
it is 2014 and I get an email from Dan Godston
because he wants to know if I can write a poem
and I think why not? I'll give it a shot
and I get to work on it

The choice is easy because I never
cared much for TENDER BUTTONS
though Kati Short wrote a wonderful
piece it is Diamond as Big as the Ritz but
in Gertrude's voice I only wish that Stein had
written anything so good
                                            and I get distracted
thinking about NAKED LUNCH
and how O'Hara could have used that title
since the contents are all frozen moments
when everyone sees what is at the end
of every fork as Kerouac said 
and I ruminate on how important lunch
is for the creative imagination in New York

and Orh is in the kitchen fixing lunch will it be
tom yum gang or tom khan kai or even
kai med ma muang again
and now that I'm hungry I think about
the day Frankie died on Fire Island
run over by a dune buggy
(piloted by a jealous William S. Burroughs
in a hepped up frenzy over gastronomical titles
I fantasize)
then I go back where I left off and   
casually the only way to do an O'Hara poem
finish it off
and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
the first time I encountered The Day Lady Died
and thinking it was the greatest elegy written
about anyone and how the tragedy comes to us
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
and he tweeted a song in his lunch napkin 
and everyone and I stopped breathing

--Duane Vorhees

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