“Good morning, good morning, good morning…” Not!
There’s bad blood between me and the vast apparatus
of Rise and Shine. How can we set our gyroscope
to launch the “Sant Pablo” or plot
a course to Luxe, Calme et Volupté when the sharks are at us
with old news so early? “Tornado Kills 35!” “Hope
Dies for Trapped Poodle!” “Son of Saddam Stole Billions!”
(A garbage truck squeals and clonks. Lord
Atom wipes an anti-quark off his kimono.) Should I
do something? Paint an ogrish odalisque writhing on pillions
of male disgust or, au contraire, a bored
nymph so oversexed she abandons herself to an Eye
as impartial and lecherous as a brush or studio rug?
Meanwhile, dawn leaves a trail of slime on the window like a slug.
*Click on the audio icon below to hear Malcolm Farley read his poem “Matisse/Picasso.”