THAT'S A POEM
How do you write a poem. Poem on a napkin.
Think about the size of the paper you're writing on.
If you're doing it in your brain only, there's no limit to
the length of the line you're going for
But on this here napkin they gave me at the Thatsaburger
I've got about 5 inches from left to right.
5 inches to write what my brain thinks &
translates from brain language into American English
and if my brain thots keep going in a long
sentence I've got to wrap the writing of it
back to the left margin, indenting
each time so I have a stepped
stack of words, diagonal
in until I've just
about run out of
space!
So I've got to wonder if this is a poem or not
What would any other language have for the word poem
or would there be no word at all in some tongues
for poem!
And then how would you write one: I guess you
wdnt bother.
So why write a whatever it is.
Well
I've got this napkin and I've got this Bic Micro Metal
ballpoint pen
And I've been called a poet for so damn long
I don't know what else to do in a situation like this.
I've finished my ham, egg, cheese on whole wheat toast
sandwich,
2nd napkin!
By the way if you write on a napkin, put another napkin
under it because the ink bleeds through the one
you're writing on.
And I've finished a couple cups of coffee, refills free!
Got a little container of milk so I can have that in my coffee
instead of that damned non-dairy creamer.
And I must say two-thirds the way through my breakfast sandwich
it was so good and the light was so clear
and the place seemed so open & spacious with its
blue & white tile floors
and the Navajo guys & gals & that little baby
were all so enjoying their breakfast
the infant was just sleeping
that somehow I felt like I was in heaven.
How could there be any more in life than
sitting here in perfect contentment.
But what is perfect
and is there any such thing as heaven & can it be attained
right here in this corner booth at the Thatsaburger
in Shiprock New Mexico.
If you want to know the truth the astounding presence
of that gigantic volcanic core spectacular rock
Shiprock, rock-with-wings,
is so present in my thots tho I can't see it directly
from where I sit
That I must get up: it is so overwhelmingly there.
I want to see it.
Is there perfection, is there any kind of heaven.
There is a kind of perfection, there is a kind of heaven.
I just experienced it.
3rd & final napkin!
But is there a poem. What is this thing.
Why did I write it.
Well
maybe it's just a letter
like my Grandma Goodell used to write
to all her brothers & sisters
maybe it's just a way to bridge
the gap from me to you.
larry goodell / Shiprock, New Mexico 3Feb94
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| People really did laugh at my wordplay poems and especially my poets reading spoofs . . . & nature & gardening . . . audience almost entirely Native American. |
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| TumbleWords brought writers/poets to local communities in Southwest states . . . this is University of Nevada Press, 1995 and "Thatsapoem" is included . . . |
