scarecrow poetics/essays

Sunday, March 11, 2007


New Wild Boys . . .

I don’t want to walk into the William S. Burroughs
wide-screen gunfighter drama of pulled-down fedora
and secret agent cabalistic webs of no possible
meaning, of secrets held close like a lover just
deceased while helicopter blades rotate ominously
over a desert town and Mexicanos locos
working for the man slip in and out of
knife-drawn shadows of
Big Texas Lawman America
Saudi Oil
South African Diamonds
and deeply concealed interstellar invaders
as small packs of poets wander the hills
like guerilla warriors wearing
Henry David Thoreau T-shirts and stolen Nikes
doing whatever they can to be heard

The sun and the sea are mine too
and I demand they be returned—
a million murdered presidents later
or now doesn’t matter:

because I, one the poets, am not a beginning but simply another
American expression of something much older that can never
quite go away—

so I can just wait you out
if need be

Robert Woodard © 2007.

ROB WOODARD was born in Anaheim, California in 1964 and raised mostly in the nearby Long Beach area. After graduating high school, he dropped in and out of various community colleges and worked mostly in restaurants in southern California, Hawaii, and Australia, while taking breaks to wander aimlessly across big swaths of the globe. During these years he wrote consistently in search of his voice as a writer. Frustrated by his lack of progress, he returned to school and eventually obtained bachelors and masters degrees in anthropology from California State University, Long Beach. After a brief stint as a college professor, he returned to working in restaurants and writing. Burning Shore Press recently published Heaping Stones, his first novel. What Love Is, his second novel, is scheduled to be released by the same house in the summer/early fall of 2006. He is currently writing poetry, book reviews, and a journal.



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