Resolutions?

Last New Year's Day, I made a pact with Big Mike to perform my piece, New Year Resolutions, during my 3 minute slot at the Bowery Poetry Club Poetry Marathon, 1/1/11. Invitations to the marathon were arrogantly assumed, and staying alive another year was implicit to the agreement. Suicide, accidental death, or extreme hopelessness were all out of the question, lest the pact be broken. Underlying depression, anger, and cynicism, naturally, continued.

We are still kicking, and are invited to perform individually and to co-host the 10 o'clock hour. Big Mike has hosted at many of the marathons. This is my first time and I'm not even sure what the point of throwing me in was, since Big Mike does a great job by himself, but the invitation was issued and he was gracious about sharing the spotlight with me.

I don't want to spoil the piece, so suffice to say it involves surrealism, absurdity and scissors. Hopefully, photographs and a video will be posted at a later date.

And now, a New Year's Eve poem - I will post one daily till 2011.

New Year’s Eve Pantoum
(in memory of Don Cherry)
He always tapped a rhythm on the door
Everything he did was made of music
Folks often ran into him at midnight
He liked to play his pocket trumpet on the street

Everything he did was made of music
He stood in front of Charlie Parker’s house till dawn
He liked to play his pocket trumpet on the street
It was a New Year’s Eve that she first stopped to listen

He stood in front of Charlie Parker’s house till dawn
The weatherman had said that it might snow
It was a New Years Eve that she first stopped to listen
She wore suede boots as if she didn’t care

The weatherman had said that it might snow
He pulled his hat down against the wind
She wore suede boots as if she didn’t care
He played a song he said he wrote for her

He pulled his hat down against the wind
She wrapped her scarf around his neck
He played a song he said he wrote for her
She listened for a while, then she danced

She wrapped her scarf around his neck
He said he’d be back home in just a bit
She listened for a while then she danced
He always tapped a rhythm on the door

© puma perl, 12/31/08