*Excerpts from “The Poet”
(2013)
If I could tell you what it is…
It’s poetry and it never cease to exist…
It’s in the Spirit—the way a writer looks at the world in which he lives…
He’s a surgeon—when he finds an abscess he must remove the shit
Writin’ blues songs and poem lyrics
Move forward and respect the steps
Cold next to the river like Robert Frost but look…
The Spirit movin’ my hand so the Penn-a-cook…
Native to this place but God sent Eliot just like He sent the Book…
Full’a poetry
Poetic is Lowell…
Sittin’ on some stairs—can’a Bud Light sittin’ between my toes…
Sometimes it’s like a ritual…
Like when I sip a few…
Then the scribble tool comes out and things get written through
Look up to see a crescent moon…
January—so it’s still winter too…
Unseasonably warm—5pm though—and it be gettin’ cool
Inspired by the way those clouds are driftin’ over that street light…
Lookin’ gray in the light blue sky…
Over the roofs of the houses—down comes the night…
Clear in the Town & the City…
Is your mind’s eye here in Pawtucketville with me?...
Little kids playin’ in this street…
The sights and the sounds…
Ridin’ they bikes all around…
Everywhere I go in Galloway there’s an atmosphere that I’ve found…
I tend to think about Kerouac…
I like to give him the respect of callin’ him Jack…
Just another poet birthed next to the Merrimack as I jot in this notepad