Saturday, September 6, 2008

Featured Poet: Ken Pobo

"About me: Tangerines, cats, “She’s Got The Time” by The Poor, salmon-colored balsam, the 80s garage band revival, Ingmar B, fantasy: Marc Bolan and I in the cramped back seat of a planet, rain with attitude."


The director calls me to the set. I’m

Dorothy—a tough acting job

for a fifty-four year old man.

It’s the scene where the twister’s

dashing up fast and I can’t open

the storm cellar door. John McCain

walks up behind me and opens it,

says I’d look better in a suit. I say

he’d look better in a dress.

Auntie Em’s head pops up

and says, A fuckin’ storm’s

biting your asses—get in here.

Okay. John says he prefers

war pictures. Well, we all

take roles we don’t like,

right? Uncle Henry smokes pot.

Toto barks I want to be a poodle.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want”

will be dubbed into

the soundtrack. Cut. We go

to our dressing rooms. The director

enters mine and blows me

twice. He’s nice. But demanding.

I’m going to be a star! Kansas

will wiggle its ruby ass

and I’ll come running—

there’s no place like home.


Look, you prick, either I get to be on your show

or I’ll leave you.

Go ahead, leave.

Slam. Door closes.



You say I’ll kill you

if you don’t like “Puppet Man”

by the 5th Dimension. I say:

Do your worst. You do.

Your worst. I’m dead.

Close-up on the body

being wheeled out

on the 10 p.m. report.

A news personality asks

a neighbor: Are you

upset? No, the neighbor,

Mr. Felch, says. You get

a suspended sentence.

The Judge thinks I made you

do it. He did the same thing

to his wife who baldly claimed

she disliked “Crystal

Blue Persuasion.” I hear

well in my coffin. The scuttlebutt

is that you’ve found

another lover. You dance

and dance to the 5D. But I wait.

You haven’t asked him yet about

“Things I’d Like To Say”