I remember performing this poem. I wrote it June 1984. The not yet twenty year old me. And I think it's fun. I see the way it's paced for performance. The ending is a little gift to the roomful of poets at every open mike.
This is of a genre of poetry I've decided I dislike. Generalizing about some group. Talkin' cute about 'em. In looking at a new version of an old poem there's always the question how much / what of my present poetics do I impose on the poet 20 years gone. I didn't think all that much of this poem at the time. I thought it was fun and I loved to hear people laugh and people laughed. If I heard somebody read this at an open today I would laugh. Did I ever send it out to a magazine? I doubt it. But who knows? Get the people enjoying themselves you think you got something good.
This isn't a bad poem. Which makes it tricky. Tricky looking for a way in again. There are only little edits in the notebook. "calculate the witching hour" becomes "check the witching hour" ... "quantum theory and / toadstools" becomes "quantum theory and / the validity of home-growing toadstools" ... Otherwise it's as it hit the page. It's not something I'd include in a manuscript or send to an ezine. Not as it is. I just don't believe in it. It's ... inauthentic.
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