latest Scott Poole poem-
The Best Kind of Garbage
I love it when you tell me
you've again found a lone wooden chair on an ocean beach
or an oak chair knocked over in the forest
or a pine chair in tact near a mountain top
or mossy chair under a waterfall.
It's the best kind of garbage you can find in nature, you say
and that chairs haunt you
and that you find more chairs than anyone you know.
I even loved it when you told me you found
a sapling growing right from the seat
of one of those random chairs
and you stayed and talked to it for over an hour.
You make me quiet.
You're the most beautiful liar in the world.
(you can join his email newsletter at his website)
spocom.com
The Ex-Porn Star Retirement Center
(from Cheap Seats)
In the future there will be eighty-year-old
porn stars.
I could retire with them.
Watching their bodies under
simple old lady dresses.
Wandering the building with a slow gait,
one hand stroking the wall,
mouth open,
drool falling out.
And seeing their eyes turn on subjects
of love and photographs.
It would be wonderful
with a mug of coffee,
giant old house by the woods.
I would want each to have an advanced degree
and to sit on old couches,
talking of Schopenhauer, Holmes
Thoreau, and Fudd.
Maybe there’d be no talking,
just the sounds of birds
on the screen porch
three days deep in July.
Maybe just a slow gathering
of images:
hands cooking,
mustached lips, smiles,
feet in nurses shuffling shoes.
We would all enjoy
the quiet way a leaf might talk, a fig leaf perhaps,
the symphony of a forest,
among bodies that have survived
almost Olympic training,
the old porn stars and me. |
