William
Sovern Remembers
i
can’t be an Impressionist Painter
all
the Impressionist Painters are dead
for
a long time
at poetry readings
i would be introduced
as a beat poet
Jack
Karouac wrote
On The Road in
1951 when i was
three years old
most
of the beat poets are dead
Hunter S, Thompson just shot
himself with hemingways
shootgun
and I guess
that makes the
gonzo
poet Corso one
of
the last
beats
several years ago
there
was a plan to
read at Hunter’s
Colorado
ranch but the bus
had a
flat tire and 28 days
before
my first Ginsberg
reading
Ginsberg die of cancer
if
you’re a famous poet
ban
be from your
readings
i did see the late great language
poet Jackson Mac Low at my first Greenwich Village poetry reading at the KGB Bar
the place was packed & electric and Jackson & his wife Ann Tardos picked
our table out of the smoky poetry manage as if i had lived in New York all my
life
the second
New York trip to perform at the lengendary CBGB’s arriving at 2:00 AM at
2nd & Houston Jackson Mac Low floating down the street my benevalent gaurdian
angle making sure i was only up to good miscief
&
although
i am not a beat
i have the beat
i was born of
the Clasical
Music beat
with a cello between my legs
but what do i have in common
with
dead europeans
i was a white boy from Indiana
the Morrison beat
opened
the doors
the Dylan beat
provided the hammer
to nail the door shut
after
my passage
i have been
the angry poet beat
the comical relief poet beat
the
Kentucky kind bud beat
the Kentucky Ron Whitehead Viking Hillbilly Apocalypse
beat
the Charles Bukowski concret poet beat
the Ann Sexten beat
dressed
me up in a
cute pink chifon number
dancing around a tatooed
rabbit with
stars on her
head playing a snare
drum & high hat
the Regie Cabico
beat
wanted to dress me up
like Tina Turner but i’m
a white man
from Indiana
the Brenda Coultas beat
lit the fire that still burns
the
Edwin Torres beat says
that home is in your head
when i die will bury me
in my backyard
under the diamond sky
by
the magic brown river
churning
churning
churning
around
crescent
city bend
& in the distance
a lone
guitar player playing
one beat at a time
the
last hotel
i can
see the black wall
i can see
the silhouette in the window
he’s
talking
i’m not interested
in what
he’s talking
about
i’m only interested
in the fact
that it’s
the last hotel
the
last hotel
New
& Of Note On March 28, 2006, Will
Sovern and Shakespeare's Monkey took to the stage at The
Synchronicity Art Gallery in Evansville, Ind, and pervaded this poem along
with the Ron Whitehead classic "The Bone Man" in
joyous unison. Lensed by Insom framester Jeremy Hogan, Click
Here to view this amazing amalgam!
