The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Sat 2/2/2008)

[RetroLounge]

Ink

I feel obligated to get a tattoo.
It's how the skin of the species
is evolving. If I continue
living without plumage,
it will be impossible
to mate or hold a conversation
with a banker. My favorite
is strawberry ice cream. Not
average size scoops, Baskin
and Robbins size scoops
but three and tiny
I discovered one night
tattooed to a thigh.
It was the possibility
of kissing a private dessert
I so admired. I've decided
to get tattoos of my eyes
on the inside of my eyelids
so I can stare at the oceans
of my dreams. I'll have
muscles tattooed to my chest,
money to my palms, the smell
of honeysuckle to my breath. I want
BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF FIRE
tattooed to my brain, mouths
to the bottom of my feet, you
to me. There is not
enough art in this life.
Tattoo my front door
to my tombstone and place
a key on my tongue
like a mint. It's not for me
to decide whether my return
will be called
breaking out or breaking in.

Bob Hicok

*************************************



Bob Hicok was born in 1960. His books of poetry include Insomnia Diary (Pittsburgh, 2004), Animal Soul (2001), which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, Plus Shipping (1998), and The Legend of Light (1995), which won the 1995 Felix Pollak Prize in Poetry and was named a 1997 ALA Booklist Notable Book of the Year.

Hicok writes poems that value speech and storytelling, that revel in the material offered by pop culture, and that deny categories such as "academic" or "narrative." As Elizabeth Gaffney wrote for the New York Times Book Review: "Each of Mr. Hicok's poems is marked by the exalted moderation of his voice—erudition without pretension, wisdom without pontification, honesty devoid of confessional melodrama. . . . His judicious eye imbues even the dreadful with beauty and meaning."

Hicok is the recipient of two Pushcart Prizes and an NEA Fellowship. He has worked as an automotive die designer and a computer system administrator, and is currently an assistant professor of English at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg.


*************************************

:hi:

RL

[xchrom]

1. i have a picture of an icecream cone tattooed

just to the left -- and up a little from -- well -- never mind.

[RetroLounge]

5. You'll have to show me someday...

:9

RL

[xchrom]

6. ...

:thumbsup:

[lizziegrace]

2. Wow..

I really like this one. :)


:hug:

[RetroLounge]

7. ...

:hug:

RL

[Tuesday Afternoon]

3. the truth right in the middle --

"...There is not
enough art in this life."

Amen.

[RetroLounge]

15. Amen

:hi:

RL

[RainDog]

4. Happy Saturday to you..

...and thank you again for another good poem. I want to see those oceans in my dreams too.

sort of along the same lines... I remember in the early 1990s some woman performance artist kept having different plastic surgeries done on camera... but she would do things like have a horn put on the center of her forehead, like a unicorn, or other body mod that was too outside of polite society.

and her underlying theme was the changing of human-ness - like cyberpunk stories, etc. we are moving into an era when humans and machines most very likely will live in the same body.. we are evolving into homo-machine, in other words. maybe will be like homo erectus one day, an older form of a species...

...Whether the evolution is literal or figurative, we'll develop further nanotechnology to imbed machines that can work with our muscle energy... pacemakers are just the earliest form of this future...

Or maybe that woman just watched too many episodes of The Jetsons.

[BlueIris]

8. Nice.

[RetroLounge]

9. ...

:hi:

RL

[zabet]

10. Wow.

That is most excellent!

:applause:

I cannot wait to let my
daughter read it. She is
a poet and likes ink, she
will appreciate this on
so many different levels.

[Gonzo Gardener]

11. My grandfather was a tattooed WWII submariner.

I remember sitting on his lap tracing, with tiny fingers, the outlines of the compass rose and coiling serpents on his strong arms as he would rock me to sleep.

The recorded memories, ink seared into flesh, were too painful for him to speak. One distinct, thick band wrapped around his left arm, a heavy black mark of remembrance for the dead and lost friends of that war. He wore this history on his skin.

Over time the sharp black story lines bled and blurred, softening under sagging skin. As the constrictive nightmares etched across his chest and back faded he began to tell the tales of the South Pacific.



Thank you Retro! :loveya: :hug:

[yoyossarian]

12. WONDERFUL!

Absolutely wonderful!

I have a strong slant toward
formal rythm and rhyme myself
so I'm not always
that enchanted
by more free-form modalities

But I love all truly thoughtful poetry
and this one

is really

REALLy

sweet


Thanks for sharing! :loveya:

[RetroLounge]

14. You're welcome

:hi:

RL

[CaliforniaPeggy]

13. My dear Retro!

Wow, beautiful!

The infinite possibilities of language and art meet here and most beautifully!

...It was the possibility
of kissing a private dessert
I so admired...

Thank you so much!

:hug: