Did you see that PBS special on Paris between the wars? The salon scene there fostered a mixing of ideas and an energy that was truly amazing. Today's poem has all of that. It sort of reminds me of what "Land of a Thousand Dances" was to Rock & Roll. It is guaranteed to make you smile and ask for more.
Georgia Santa-Maria is an Albuquerque native, born in the old purple brick St. Jo’s on Martin Luther King. Her 5th grade principal at Emerson Elementary said that in 36 years of teaching, she was the worst kid she’d ever known. Georgia decided to take poetry seriously when her senior English teacher at Valley HS told the class that there had never been a woman poet worth reading. She has been published in several poetry mags. Georgia currently lives in Belen.
Sit down for 2 hours and read everything
You’ve written since High School, no repeats.
I’m down to that one about having
Sex to Hayden concertos.
I need to write more poetry
I’m going on an all poetry diet. Every time
I want a big juicy burger, I’m writing a poem instead.
And not some fluffy Crispy Creme donut of a poem,
We’re talking low fat poems.
No sugar poems. Low salt poems.
Brown rice poems, back to the land in bare feet.
Little sashimi haikus, no adjectives allowed
Lean meat poems about war and death.
Organic vegetarian poems, full of earthy virtue.
We don’t want any french fry poems
Nor chocolate poems about the feel good of love.
No pickle poems of self-abnegation
(Self indulgent and mostly boring.)
My friend writes green-bean casserole poems.
(Shouldn’t something that smarmy
At least taste great, or be a little naughty?)
I envy Eliot, who wrote communion poems
That taste like wine, but still are wafer lean.
And that hard candy E. E. Cummings
(Never knowing what you might find inside.)
You’ve got to admire the hamminess of Sandberg
The blowzy beer and bratwurst of the Beats
Dickinson’s polite and hungry
Little bread and butter sandwiches,
Jimmy Baca’s astounding enchiladas
And Langston Hughes’s eloquent empty plates.
I could, maybe, write a good solid middle class
Zucchini of a poem. Ripe, Plentiful
Ubiquitous, virtuous and green.
For Christmas, I might write some cookie poems:
Filled with little chocolate bon mots, and
The occasional pecan of wisdom.
(Black walnuts are better, but harder to find
And nearly impossible to open.)
I want to write rice-noodle poems
That explode when they hit the grease.
Form poems that elude the treacherous petit fours
And poems that open themselves continuously
Growing like the macaroni of fractals.
Poetry submissions are welcome. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.