David Bromige

The original of this was too ugly to be shown.
It was a self-indulgence on the author's part.
In sound, it would have been a screech;
to the touch, an instantly forgotten shock.

In political terms, it would have been incorrect:
offensive to feminists, mistakable as Marxist,
harmful to the author himself.
Out of consideration for himself

the author has suppressed this original,
feeling that it said at once too little
and too much about him. Too little
concerning his poetic expertise.

Too much, about his originality.
It was so readily identifiable
that it defied recognition.
It would have been too  ungainly to bring in today,

too small to be properly seen,
a problem to handle, like a caduceus
wreathed in cottonmouths.
Like a hamster rolling towards you

pedaling inside its liberty ball
where you sit in your visitor's chair
asking "What's this clear plastic sphere
with apparent intent on my person"

it would have kicked the brainwaves
too high with its surprise & nonsense.  
So says the author.  Personally,       
I saw little to object to.

I thought it only natural
and interesting, if not much, as such.
It was better than what's on television.
except for PBS sometimes: let's hope this

is as good as that.  It beat the bible
for brevity.  It was like a movie
called "The Missing Link"
or "How Long Can We Hold Our Breath"
or "Alone & Not-alone At Last."
But then, I was caught up
in my own version of a life,
imagining a movie audience.

"It is very beautiful
but I wanted it all for myself"
said someone at the preview,
resuming a fight with her date.

"This proves his ex-wife right"
another woman said, delightedly.
"The grunion must be running"
and "the rubes are out in numbers"

opined selected members, later
pegged as being in denial.
Siskel thought it too easy
while Ebert found it unbelievable.

As for the rating -- but
It's the author's turn to interrupt... 
Imagined as a painting               
it exposed figuration

and explained abstraction.
Cooled off against a flat white wall
as a photo at an art exhibit
it begged for words,

but these are the words
that took their places.
And the Good Old Days,
were intention fully realized?

The East Village Poetry Web