Tom Koontz is 70

(Tom Koontz at 70, in photo and self-portrait.)

Tom Koontz Haiku:

It's amazing to

you how a college prof

can change your whole life.

Saturday, July 11 2009

Coming Soon

Death at Your Door, Again

Death at Your Door

Advancing My Career

In the new Flarf/Conceptional issue of Poetry there is a poem by Nada Gordon called "Unicorn Believers Don't Declare Fatwas" which, in true Flarf fashion, is a mash-up of language culled from the internet, including from this blog. The beginning of the sixth stanza reads "This blog is dedicated to the individual / mystery of Hitler's moustache and my book of poems / to becoming a unicorn." It makes a great deal of sense to quote from this blog. As far as I'm concerned, this means that I was recently published in Poetry. Step one is now complete. Step two: tenure. 

Three Things (Solid)

Self Portrait

A Picture of Something

New News

I'm in the new issue of the very cool Sixth Finch. So that's a nice thing.

Also, this coming week, Monday thru Friday, is my week to happily, and sexily, 

stay at the No Tell Motel. So you should swing by for a couple of beers and 

a foot rub.

Good News

People, I have good news 

which I will identify in the future.

People, good news is always

very good, especially when it is 

actually being made.

Even in the future, good news

has a ring to it that is good.

If I meet you in the future, when 

the good news is no longer new

and the goodness of it seems 

understood, admit to yourself

that I am lucky.

Move your mouth in such a fashion

so as to indicate you have 

featured this thought in your mind.

Ah, now is better too.

People, the words don't exactly express

it, but they do give it an intricate shape. 

This news might appear to be 

a funky dinosaur but really it

is still invisible, goofy. 

Dumbness

Wanted to acknowledge

that life is going

on

and yet still I can't

seem to find

a life that

isn't there yet

Yes, you are right

the night

I am mooning is

now

Lyrics by Woody Guthrie

from memory, the 1st verse or so of "She Came Along to Me" from Mermaid Avenue:

Ten thousand books I could write you about her

because I felt if I could know her I could know all women

and they've not been too well know for planning and organized thinking

but I'm sure the women are equal and they may be ahead of the men.

But I wouldn't spread such a rumor around because one organizes the other.

Sometimes the most lost and wasted attract the most balanced and sane.

And the wild and the reckless take up with the clocked and the time

and the mixture is all of us and we're still mixing.

But never, never, never, never could have it been done.

If the women hadn't entered into the deal

like she came along to me. 

Whether they're right or not, these are the words in my brain. I've been singing these words in my head for two days. I could say this about my mom or my wife or my daughter. One of the beautiful things about this is the way it doesn't rhyme, especially at the end, and thus the words come around as unexpectedly and beautifully as the women in my life. Did I mention how my daughter became misplaced in a crowded mall? The fear was like fear in a movie. Everything was fast and detailed. It was very jerky. And when she was replaced back into our presence, it was like this song just clicked on. 

 

One's Feelings about One's Experiences

When one returns from a trip, one is no longer gone,

but present again, as if some magician has been

turned inside out.

This magician is an idiot and so his gloves aren't white

and under his new trees are new weeds.

On the trip, one may experience family relationships, including

the relationship with a father, a mother, a brother, a sister-in-law,

a niece, a nephew, a wife, a daughter, a son, and perhaps

other relationships. These back-and-forths can

be classified as fulfilling or unfulfilled, hurtful or helpful.

There are many ways to categorize these episodes. One

can place them on the spectrum of a trip, or "vacation," if you will.

In malls, one may misplace their little girl

and become terrified and angry. One may mouth words like

"What the fuck?" and "What the fuck?" and "What

the fuck?" One may also mouth a saying like "What the fuck?"

Other proverbs may flash through an experience 

like bits of rice in a soup. Also, food is expensive or free.

The airplanes are very similar and the airports also

have a sort of ease about them that requires little

in terms of new processing. 

One can be grateful to be home, noting home is always better

than anywhere and noting, too, that the turtles are

still alive. Noting, also, the garden has grown and yet

the grass isn't extravagantly high. Green

is beautiful color, be it when one returns

or when one is gone. 

One can feel all colors begin to make sense.

One can all feel all sense slipping into useless color,

substituting one shade for another.

The kids sleep or do not. Cry, or do not. Eat, or do not.

Then, in a little fan of hope, one feels

the possibility that nothing is lost. That all is arrived.

That the perfect spreading of return is complete.