The Best American Poetry 2014 (12 page)

after Chris Toll

in my head it was Vincent (not Boris)

who narrated the Who family fun

during Grinch-time in December

but then he clocked in for Sears

selling Rembrandts (not Lady Kenmores)

(clarity at 14)

why is
he

in
crèche

I met Santa

(who fingered a pocketful of poems)

on the corner of Saint Paul + No(wH)ere

four times maybe three

he passed out couplets to the crowd

a smile full of antlers

(Bullwinkle not Rudolph)

I know why
Chris

is in
Christmas

some gods play with clouds

like Play-Doh

(who forgot to wind the clock)

some poets cloud with play

like heart tracings

why is
toll

in
atoll

how does a poet

fall back into the sky

(what time is it)

I'm sure certain only twice each day

this is once

I know why
he

is in
ache

from
Little Patuxent Review

Obviously, it's a category I've been made aware of

from time to time.

It's been pointed out that my characters eat a lot of lightly-braised asparagus

and get FedEx packages almost daily.

Yet I
dislike
being thought of as a white writer.

I never wanted to be limited like that.

When I find my books in the “White Literature” section of the bookstore,

dismay is what I feel—

I thought I was writing about other, larger things.

Tax refunds, Spanish lessons, premature ejaculation;

meatloaf and sitcoms; the fear of perishing.

I know some readers need to see their lives reflected from the page—

It lets them know they aren't alone.

The art it takes to make that kind of comfort

is not something I look upon with scorn.

But after a while, you start to feel like, to the world, white

is all you'll ever be.

And gradually, after all the struggling against,

after tasting your own fear of being

only what you are,

you accept—

Then, with fresh determination, you lean forward again.

You write whiter and whiter.

from
The Paris Review

Dating a Catholic is like dating a tribe

  and dating a tribe is like dating a nation

and dating a nation is like dating a football star

  and dating a football star is like dating a new car

and dating a new car is like dating an air freshener

  and dating an air freshener is like dating a fake tree

and dating a fake tree is like dating silver tinsel

  and dating silver tinsel is like dating a holiday

and dating a holiday is like dating a black man

  and dating a black man is like dating a top

and dating a top is like dating a bottom

  and dating a bottom is like dating a Tibetan

and dating a Tibetan is like dating a dragon

  and dating a dragon is like dating a fireplace

and dating a fireplace is like dating a mantel

  and dating a mantel is like dating a picture frame

and dating a picture frame is like dating Martin Luther King with Jesus

  and dating Martin Luther King & Jesus is like dating a threesome

and dating a threesome is like dating a commune

  and dating a commune is like dating an unachievable idea

and dating an idea is like dating the Enlightenment

  and dating the Enlightenment is like dating science

and dating science is like dating a beaker

  and dating a beaker is like dating a pharmacy

and dating a pharmacy is like dating a dealer

  and dating a dealer is like dating a supply chain

and dating a supply chain is like dating a Republican

  and dating a Republican is like dating winter

and dating winter is like dating Demeter

  and dating Demeter is like dating corn

and dating corn is like dating pancakes

  and dating pancakes is like dating an orgasm

and dating an orgasm is like dating Utopia

  and dating Utopia is like dating an Amish woman

and dating an Amish woman is like dating a Luddite

  and dating a Luddite is like dating a folk hero

and dating a folk hero is like dating Robert Zimmerman

  and dating Robert Zimmerman is like dating history

and dating history is like dating a white man

  and dating a white man is like dating insecurity

and dating insecurity is like dating a Hummer

  and dating a Hummer is like dating The Pentagon

and dating The Pentagon is like dating a lost star

  and dating a lost star is like dating a liberal

and dating a liberal is like dating a Jew

  and dating a Jew is like dating a lamp

and dating a lamp is like dating a blonde

  and dating a blonde is like dating a Swede

and dating a Swede is like dating IKEA

  and dating IKEA is like dating Whole Foods

and dating Whole Foods is like dating a yoga instructor

  and dating a yoga instructor is like dating an e-reader

and dating an e-reader is like dating a television

  and dating a television is like dating a commercial

and dating a commercial is like dating a serial murderer

  and dating a serial murderer is like dating Raskolnikov

and dating Raskolnikov is like dating a rationalist

  and dating a rationalist is like dating an academic

and dating an academic is like dating a CV

  and dating a CV is like dating a white woman

and dating a white woman is like dating a bread line

  and dating a bread line is like dating a refugee

and dating a refugee is like dating a Cuban

  and dating a Cuban is like dating a propane flame

and dating a flame is like dating a topless jihadist

  and dating a jihadist is like dating a femme fatale

and dating a femme fatale is like dating Paris Hilton

  and dating Paris Hilton is like dating a tabloid

and dating a tabloid is like dating a Communist

  and dating a Communist is like dating cut flowers

and dating cut flowers is like dating infidelity

  and dating infidelity is like dating a pool

from
Tin House

—We were the finest.

So the parents blamed the children,

and the children marched barefoot

through the alleys, spray-painting

their age. And the preacher introduced

the word “lascivious” and accused

the congregation of not tiding

when the daughter died.

And the deacon board smoked.

And the economists saluted Reagan.

And the police called it an economy of dust.

Our meteorologist predicted

a low-pressure system in the abdomen.

And the junkies swore perfume rung the air.

The grocer had his union; the butcher couldn't

outrun his quarter of spoiled blood.

And the girls wore extra rings

and caked their skin with Vaseline.

And the men slept the afternoon,

growing childishly morose as they dreamed.

And I think I thought we'd burn then,

when the refinery blew, and rust began

to bleed through the whitewashed fence,

when the lawns were done, and the schoolyard

darkened, and the side streets began to split.

from
Crazyhorse

pigs prey to piggishnesses. get ate from the rooter to the tooter.

I'm a hog for you baby, I can't get enough
go the wolfish crooner.

the gust buffeted porker roll in the hay or laid down

   in twig rapine. let me in, let me in.

   no drum-gut, Stagger's stomach a tenement:

his deadeye bigger than his brick house.

Stagger Lee live by the want and die by the noose,

whose greedy void like a whorehouse

   full of empties getting full. can't get enough!

rumored Stagger would root through pussy

to plumb a fat boy. here piggy! what Lee see he seize.

manful, ham-fisted. sorry Billy,

   your name mud and who love dirt like swine?

they get in it like a straw house. it'll be cold out

before Lee admit his squeals weren't howls.

he got down. he get dirty.

from
Poetry