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Poem published Dec 29, 2002 - 09:26 PM

This is another of the poems that Kathryn Medland printed out to share with her wedding party. It was my biggest artistic honor to be there, like placemats, sitting at random table-settings. To be commingled and cojoined with the work of e.e. cummings.

I guess I was a surrealist poet

The ennui of 26 years and a little bit of voyeurism? Maybe of longing?

I visited Houston for a while in 1996. The Rothko Chapel is worth visiting Houston to see. It really can convince even the most resolute naysayer that there is something greater than ourself.

I don't remember the impetus or reason for this poem. If I can remember why, I will share it here.

It's funny to find odd little treasures like this poem. I mean, what was it about the discman that made me feel like writing a poem?

In 1996, Anne Brossard and I traveled around the globe. Anne was in the last stage of freedom before attending graduate school at Columbia, and I a photographer. And I wrote this poem about the oppressive heat of Singapore, which is nothing compared to DC funk.

I usually don't write too much about places, especially in the US. Although I found this one, which is about Texas.