Desire Street January, 1996 cyberspace chapbook of The New Orleans Poetry Forum established 1971 Desire, Cemeteries, Elysium Listserv: DESIRE-Request@Sstar.Com Email: Robert Menuet, Publisher robmenuet@aol.com Mail: Andrea S. Gereighty, President New Orleans Poetry Forum 257 Bonnabel Blvd. Metairie, La 70005 Programmer: Kevin R. Johnson Copyright 1996, The New Orleans Poety Forum (12 poems for January, 1996) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Contents: Picking Apricots Stretched out in a hole The End of the Day (I) Lesson plan Adieu Another Way Nature Notre Dame - Another View Pause Love Poem Translated Steel Guitar Wife's Complaint -------------------------------------------- Picking Apricots by Athena O. Kildegaard I like to think of you standing beneath the spindly branches of an apricot flies at your feet tipsy from the rotted juices your mouth open in concentration your sisters too filling paper bags and not a word spoken just the hot silence conjured by your gathering apricots in a mown yard. -------------------------------------------- Stretched out in a hole by kevin R. johnson Row by row you cut, then lay down tip to tip wooden poles tall as a man-sized woman, using pointed metal caps, stalks greener than money are speared one atop another. These bundles are laid out like a new deck of cards down the row. When a field is done, a truck goes out, you climb on the back smiling in the wind, to help pick up the bundles. Each run fills the truck; everyone except the driver and the boss must walk to the barn and climb like spiders to the top and hang the stalks like crowded slabs of beef. In a few weeks after they're cured, the tobacco will be sold at the market. Tobacco's clear juice runs down the machete, greasing the handle with every whack. My hands are soft, never callous; bits of skin curl up in the dirt just like worms. The sun is an angry father, everything weeps. When the clouds come, the sky turns fat and grey; light pours through as if we are on the underside of a lake, drowning. At mid-day, we abandon the patch-work fields like leaving an old mule that won't move no matter how hard you beat it. Each is on his own walking up the road or through paths in the woods. I eat half a sandwich of not too stale bread and meat you can almost taste with a squirt of mustard that looks like an egg yolk if you stare too long. A glass of Crazy Berry Cherry Kool-Aid washes down the food and grit. I like the last cup because its tart. Night-time, and the sky if full of constellations that all the kids at school can name. Now that the earth is clear, the soil is loose and ditches are easily dug. But still, you have to go deep, or the smoke from the brown, wrinkled tobacco leaves will give you away. Keeping watch is important. Working for food, to help with medical bills, for car parts, for a red bandanna to wrap around my head, I learn the pain of discrete contortions. From figures in the dirt the shapes of angels and corpses, from eating with flies and emaciated cats, I know not to trust my wishes to the stars. I think of new comic-book characters. I wonder, should you try to kiss a fist into dust or do you bide your time until its dark and let the moist, carpeted air of the barn soak up the screams? I wonder if the tomatoes will be ripe tomorrow. They taste best with salt, chapped lips or not. -------------------------------------------- The End of the Day (I) by Joshua Corey Another work day done, God, thank God. It has been hard resisting the sky, the pelicans wheeling and flocking over I-10. Hard to understand the rhetoric of women's legs, crossing and recrossing beneath transparent summer dresses. I love my new shoe smell, the moist earth, Louisiana turf, and every face in every streetcar window, peeling by like pages of newspaper in the wind: white and black, popcorn and coffee beans. These fertile smells have hard shells: bite and ruin your teeth. Better to idle in traffic, sunlight painting your left arm, breathing bus fumes, the cars fitful and asthmatic. Then home by God, where last night's conversation hangs in ellipsis, like a dropped stitch. You pick through the images, wondering where to begin. The sun. Her hair. The endless evening. The low clutch of clouds, black band of sky, New Orleans. -------------------------------------------- Lesson plan by Robert Menuet Quit hanging on your teacher trying to be a good catholic. Second grade can be a fresh start for you. If he calls you Fat, don't cry until you get home. You're the biggest in your class, and he'll try to take you down again this year. Hit him while the teacher isn't looking. Punch him in the stomach. If you don't fight you make yourself ridiculous. Make sure you draw blood, sock him in the nose. It's worth a suspension. -------------------------------------------- Adieu by Cedelas Hall Rick taught me to make sauerkraut with pork roast, German potato salad. How not to make red beans and rice. How cold, distant a German man can be. Bill taught me Orion has a belt, a sword, is a winter constellation, to laugh canoeing in the rain. That a short Frenchman can have a Napoleon complex. Sam taught me that a poem can express feelings too painful to say out loud. How to make maelstrom love amid dust and clutter. How timid a shielded Irish heart can be. Phillip taught me to love Myers' dark rum with tonic. How to move to marimba, to feed cat food to sea gulls in mid air. How a British ego can fill a room and suffocate you. -------------------------------------------- Another Way by Rhonda Manolis Then: I drank your voice...poetry...smile enticing, caressing me, being in being. Waited, wanting you and when I came to you... I gave my eyes...mouth...flesh feeling, breathing you. You took my heart...love...trust crushing, forsaking me. There was no other way. Now: Our way has ended, new love's on the horizon. I will drink anew... life, energy, spirit. There is another way. -------------------------------------------- Nature by Bob Rainer Rebellion is my nature, Anger my fuel, Love but a fleeting fancy, prone to be cruel, Fear a companion, Hunger a friend, Curious always, never to end. Such am I of mortal stock Not rare nor pure, No human rock of eternal infallibility. Simply a rebellious, angry, lonely, scared, hungry seeker Awaiting my time of glory When my fate will be sealed and stamped: My ticket to the Glories; My sentence for the Time. And whether that fate is wonderful or not At least it will be mine. -------------------------------------------- Notre Dame - Another View by Andrea Saunders Gareighty From the visitor's parking lot I watch leaves in the adjacent cemetery Pursue each other like Players in this sport passed on From fifth century Greece. Other leaves huddle in a horseshoe In golds, mauves, in reds and magentas Like frozen players. "You see leaves from a slanted perspective," I hear my sister's husband's words. These leaves and words Glass and smoke Geese and memories Whirl like flurries of snow And drift toward us From the lake for three days. One leaf, a solitary maple dancer dizzys the way to earth In a pirouette In early morning Late autumn, in Indiana. For Dennis in memory of his birthday November 8, 1995 -------------------------------------------- Pause by kevin R. johnson The sun is cut by the edge of a serrated horizon, again bleeding, darkness spreads like the smell of pick-pockets somewhere a naked butcher washes off his legs in the shower; a doctor gives her husband a sterile kiss; an addict gives up the habit, again; &the every day world is stuffed like Frankenstein with acts of poetry & we do everything all the time remembering the loss of a moment. -------------------------------------------- Love Poem Translated by Bob Rainer Your breasts tantalize me. They make me long to snuggle my nose in their soft fullness. (Those bags of fat hanging pertly from your upper torso seem surprisingly conspicuous, in view of their limited function.) Your eyes are starry pools of night. My dreams reflect from them back to me They beckon me to find them. (Receptors for electromagnetic radiation imbedded in your upper segment serve both decorative and functional uses.) My thoughts wander over your form. Desire brings them to the place where your passion awaits release, again and again. (Your major bifurcation houses potent pheromones, and they are very distracting. You emit them frequently, indicating an unending need for stimulation.) Your silken hair flows the color of God's breath. It plummets, wrapping you in shimmery sheath. (Stringy proteins protrude and dangle.) Your laughing robs my senses. I will die wondering if it tells me I am the object of your affection, or a buffoon for your fun. (The way you convey amusement is distracting, too.) -------------------------------------------- Steel Guitar by Cedelas Hall Fear inside, strung tighter than a steel guitar. Pluck my strings. They sing a twangy song. Faithful as a St. Bernard. Would have stayed with one mate, mourned his death like the swan. Betrayed, life script shredded. New blank page set before me, ending unclear. Try to re-write with fits and starts. Discordant song plays. Country novice on a bad practice day. Hope the strings will hold me together. Broken strings are hard to repair, the music suffers. -------------------------------------------- Wife's Complaint by Robert Menuet It was my birthday, yes, but it was Mardi Gras Party. Anyhow, Tibor brought a huge birthday cake from Maurice's, larger than my wedding cake, yes, and because my husband loves cake so much, he made shame of me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE POETS OF DESIRE STREET Joshua Corey is from New Jersey. Andrea Saunders Gereighty owns and manages New Orleans Field Services Associates, a public opinion polls business and is currently the president of the New Orleans Poetry Forum. Her poetry has appeared in many journals, as well as in her book, ILLUSIONS AND OTHER REALITIES. Cedelas Hall has returned to poetry writing after a 20 year hiatus. Her works range in subject matter from nostalgia to sex. Kevin Johnson, Piscean, enjoys Tequila under the stars and writes about the physiology of nothingness. Athena O. Kildegaard is a freelancer writer and mother and makes time between for writing poetry. Rhonda Manolis, mother of Chris and Andy, loves horeseback riding, Tai Chi Chaun, bicycling, hiking, and fishing. She reads Jungian psychology, existential philosophy, and holistic medicine. Robert Menuet is a psychotherapist, marital therapist, and clinical supervisor. Previously he was a social planner. Bob Rainer is an Alabama redneck who lives in Metairie, Louisiana. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ABOUT THE NEW ORLEANS POETRY FORUM The New Orleans Poetry Forum, a non-profit organization, was founded in 1971 to provide a structure for organized readings and workshops. Poets meet weekly in a pleasant atmosphere to critique works presented for the purpose of improving the writing skills of the presenters. From its inception, the Forum has sponsored public readings, guest teaching in local schools, and poetry workshops in prisons. For many years the Forum sponsored the publication of the New Laurel Review, underwritten by foundation and government grants. The New Orleans Poetry Forum receives and administers grant funds for its activities and the activities of individual poets. Meetings are open to the public, and guest presenters are welcome. The meetings generally average ten to 15 participants, with a core of regulars. A format is followed which assures support for what is good in each poem, as well as suggestions for improvement. In many cases it is possible to trace a poet's developing skill from works presented over time. The group is varied in age ranges, ethnic and cultural background, and styles of writing and experience levels of participants. This diversity provides a continuing liveliness and energy in each workshop session. Many current and past participants are published poets and experienced readers at universities and coffeehouses worldwide. One member, Yusef Komunyakaa, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for 1994. Members have won other distinguished prizes and have taken advanced degrees in creative writing at local and national universities. Beginning in 1995, The New Orleans Poetry Forum will publish a monthly electronic magazine, Desire Street, for distribution on the Internet and computer bulletin boards. It is believed that Desire Street will be the first e-zine published by an established group of poets. Our cyberspace chapbook will contain poems that have been presented at the weekly workshop meetings, and submitted by members for publication. Publication will be in both message and file formats in various locations in cyberspace. Workshops are held every Wednesday from 8:00 PM until 10:30 at the Broadmoor Branch of the New Orleans Public Library, 4300 South Broad, at Napoleon. Annual dues of $10.00 include admission to Forum events and a one-year subscription to the Forum newsletter, Lend Us An Ear. To present, contact us for details and bring 15 copies of your poem to the workshop. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright Notice Desire Street, January,1996 © 1996, The New Orleans Poetry Forum. 12 poems for January, 1996. Message format: 16 messages for January, 1996. Various file formats. Desire Street is a monthly electronic publication of the New Orleans Poetry Forum. All poems published have been presented at weekly meetings of the New Orleans Poetry Forum by members of the Forum. The New Orleans Poetry Forum encourages widespread electronic reproduction and distribution of its monthly magazine without cost, subject to the few limitations described below. A request is made to electronic publishers and bulletin board system operators that they notify us by email when the publication is converted to executable, text, or compressed file formats, or otherwise stored for retrieval and download. This is not a requirement for publication, but we would like to know who is reading us and where we are being distributed. Email: robmenuet@aol.com (Robert Menuet). We also publish this magazine in various file formats and in several locations in cyberspace. Copyright of individual poems is owned by the writer of each poem. In addition, the monthly edition of Desire Street is copyright by the New Orleans Poetry Forum. Individual copyright owners and the New Orleans Poetry Forum hereby permit the reproduction of this publication subject to the following limitations: The entire monthly edition, consisting of the number of poems and/or messages stated above for the current month, also shown above, may be reproduced electronically in either message or file format for distribution by computer bulletin boards, file transfer protocol, other methods of file transfer, and in public conferences and newsgroups. The entire monthly edition may be converted to executable, text, or compressed file formats, and from one file format to another, for the purpose of distribution. Reproduction of this publication must be whole and intact, including this notice, the masthead, table of contents, and other parts as originally published. Portions (i.e., individual poems) of this edition may not be excerpted and reproduced except for the personal use of an individual. Individual poems may be reproduced electronically only by express paper-written permission of the author(s). To obtain express permission, contact the publisher for details. Neither Desire Street nor the individual poems may be reproduced on CD-ROM without the express permission of The New Orleans Poetry Forum and the individual copyright owners. Email robmenuet@aol.com (Robert Menuet) for details. Hardcopy printouts are permitted for the personal use of a single individual. Distribution of hardcopy printouts will be permitted for educational purposes only, by express permission of the publisher; such distribution must be of the entire contents of the edition in question of Desire Street. This publication may not be sold in either hardcopy or electronic forms without the express paper-written permission of the copyright owners. FIN *********************************************** FIN