L.A.
So of course I just write
Another poem
Why? Because we like you
See you soon
I live in a garbage can
I’m Popeye the Sailor Man
I love my spinach pie
The Wolfman’s keeping it cool
On the radio; it’s just
The late ’50s, in L.A.
Photography © Allison Goldin
Out of the Blue
It was just a random thought
But I wrote it down
And it became a poem
It’s happening again
It always happens
I’ll be sipping a cup of coffee
And something hits me
I have to write it down
So I write it down
It comes from out of the blue
Silver lightning bolt
Something to stir my coffee
Give you a jolt
Choice
It makes me fucking rage
The way I’m treated by the world,
Suppressed and neglected
Watching things go by
Clowns on litters and pedestals
Ruling the world art world
By caprice – this is the stuff
Of revolution, not turning
The other cheek
That’s for sissies
And pious Christian hypocrites
Servants to the wise
Counting the days till the end
The end is where I begin
Turning the poem upside down
Spinning it down the hill
Knocking a city down
Like a string of bowling pins
The poem, as we know,
Is round, just like the earth
It is an earth
It’s where I choose to live
Gordon Marshall has published 30 books of poetry. He also writes about music, in his blog, The Flash. He lives in Boston.
Allison Goldin is an artist living in Cambridge. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles. She is currently studying Illustration at The School of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
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