[New-Poetry] from the Writer's Almanac

[TheOldMole]

Snodgrass is getting curmudgeonly.

  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: Anny Ballardini 
  To: New Poetry 
  Sent: Tuesday, October 03, 2006 3:08 AM
  Subject: [New-Poetry] from the Writer's Almanac


  Poem: "Dance Suite: Hip Hop" by W.D. Snodgrass from Not for Specialists: New and Selected Poems. © BOA Editions, Ltd. Reprinted with permission. (buy now) 


  Dance Suite: Hip Hop 

                      Lined up
                      Girls and boys,
            Coins in the drop slot; wind-up toys;
                      Necks that switch
                      Every which way;
                      Join the Hip Hop, rapping like a robot.

  Streets full of bus fumes; stairs full of shovin';
  TV's full of promises: luxuries and lovin';
  Oil's on the water; spray's on the pumpkin;
  Asprin's full of strychnine, cyanide or somethin'.

                      Wig-wag
                      Knee joints,
            Elbows crimped to zig-zag points;
                      Wrists and ankles
                      Twisted into angles;
            Splayed-out fingers clamping into fists.

  Sidewalks full of garbage; pictures in the news;
  Mayor's on the radio spouting out excuses;
  Bars on the storefronts; landlord's on the way;
  Cops have got their spring list-they'll make it pay.

                      Nuts and bolts
                      Charged by volts
            Jumpstart into spastic jerks and jolts;
                      Gears and notches
                      Grinding crotches,
            Juicing up the parts of the fools that watch us.

  Ground's full of chemicals; ocean's full of waste;
  Brother's full of steroids; meat got no taste;
  Ceilings full of roaches; rats around the cradle;
  Everybody's learned to read the lies on the label.

                      Swirl around
                      Clown, on the ground,
            Twirling like a dervish whirls, upside down;
                      Legs there,
                      Kicking in the air
            Striking like scorpions or Medusa hair.

  A bullet's in the chamber; needle's in the vein;
  Leg's set in plaster; no time for pain;
  Street's full of dealers; girls are on the curbs;
  Make a killing fast and get out for the suburbs.
                      Shift your shoulder
                      Like a soldier
            Ant, an identical mannekin or clone;
                      Who can hurt a tall doll
                      Rigid and mechanical
            Dancing the dictates of a microphone?

  W.D. Snodgrass 




------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Anny Ballardini
  http://annyballardini.blogspot.com/
  http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=poetshome
  http://www.moriapoetry.com/ebooks.html
  I Tell You: One must still have chaos in one to give birth to a dancing star! 
  Friedrich Nietzsche 



------------------------------------------------------------------------------


  _______________________________________________
  New-Poetry mailing list
  New-Poetry at wiz.cath.vt.edu
  http://wiz.cath.vt.edu/mailman/listinfo/new-poetry
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: http://wiz.cath.vt.edu/pipermail/new-poetry/attachments/20061003/65abf41c/attachment-0001.html