Anglo Poet

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Anglo Poet

Actually, this poet feels more like
diced vegetables stir fried in an
iron skillet. I got an Irish grandpa
and a French grandma, and I got
a German grandpa and I got also
a Scottish grandma and who knows
what else. I take on a tossed salad
of identities every hour of the day.
I'm daddy driving my daughter to
day-care, I'm lover in bed at night,
I'm a bad car mechanic, a house
painter, and fair roofer, a son and
a cousin. Like you I'm switchin' my
gears all the time. It's kinda fun
and I don't feel at all lost. In fact
I could use about a hundred more
labels. I'm a little on the bored
side these days. I'm a teacher and
a student, a seller and a buyer.
In my next life I want to come back
as a volcano, or maybe as a dung-
beetle inside Yorick's skull in some
forgotten hamlet. The question is
where would I rather be right now,
taking a walk in an April field or
sitting a Krogers using their WyFy
to type on this borrowed laptop.

Forming a Poetry Perfromance Troup

A group of friends and I formed a poetry performance troup. We made up characters, wrote poems for the characters (those that needed to), designed costumes, held rehearsals, learned to move on stage, and came up with good ad-lib lines.

Our group only performed one show, however, before it split into two factions and quarreling commenced. Poets tend to be singular artists, and not used to working with others.

Still, it was a worthwhile experience, and I appreciate the efforts of all in the group.