Christopher J. Jarmick… Re-Brand (part 1 of 2)

 

Re-Brand (part 1 of 2)

“That was a good thing you did. A real good thing.”

(from the Twilight Zone episode: It’s a Good Life -1961)

Good,

very good indeed!

The second October Monday
is now recognized by the City of Seattle
as Indigenous Day to honor Native Americans
on the day formerly belonging to the wrongfully
credited, discoverer of the United States, and murdering
enslaver of Native Americans, Christopher Columbus.
Columbus’ 4 voyages were actually to places now known
as the Bahamas, Cuba, Puerto Rico and

South America ( not North America t’all)– but I digress. . .

Political correctness is also now officially
indigenous to western Washington and that’s
also a very good thing;
so let the ceremonial dancing of this win-win
Indigenous Day proclamation, that costs
tax payers almost nothing, begin!
Tell the post office, libraries and banks
they can continue to take the day off
but schools will stay open, most of us will still work
and you still have to pay for parking on city streets
because Indigenous Day is not an actual fully vested legal holiday

with all the benefits one might enjoy if it were say; Memorial Day.

The Casino’s remain open
to serve free red lemonade to slot players
and perhaps will offer special discounts
to Italian-Americans who previously
borrowed Columbus Day to celebrate their Italian heritage.
That was admittedly an ill fit,
but they were making the best of the situation and now
will appear politically incorrect as they grumble
loudly for at least half a news cycle for wanting to hold

onto a dated tradition at the expense of Native Americans.

The original Americans certainly deserve a special meaningful
day of recognition and since Columbus never deserved such
honor, it was good thing the Seattle City Council did;
a very good thing. . .

 

Author Christopher J. Jarmick is a former TV producer and screenwriter who relocated to Seattle in 1994 and became a poetry activist. He continues to organize, host and publicize poetry reading and events throughout Washington State involving locally and nationally known writers. His latest book, Not Aloud has just been published by MoonPath Press and is available directly from the author or from Amazon. Follow his PoetryIsEverything blog (google it).

Copyright © 2015 by Christopher J. Jarmick

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jesse Minkert… Neapolitan Major

 

Neapolitan Major

Muscles pull into lumps hard as burls.
When knots release, when fingers
remember their positions,
the frets won’t let me rest.
Emery shuffle on callouses erodes
what once was hard and numb
and turns it pink and easy again.

 

Jesse Minkert lives in Seattle. Wood Works Press published a letterpress collection of his microstories, Shortness of Breath & Other Symptoms, in 2008. His work has appeared in Randomly Accessed Poetics, Confrontation, Paper Nautilus, Floating Bridge Review, and Harpur Palate.

Copyright © 2014 by Jesse Minkert

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walt Whitman Fantasy… by Matthew Brouwer

 

Walt Whitman Fantasy

Six o’clock

January darkness

Rainclouds pressed
against the face of the earth

like a razor

I’m sitting in my room trying to remember

how to write a poem

Think about putting on some ambient music
to push me out into the deep end

of my mind

But really, has that ever worked?

Maybe I should acquire some shrooms

But I don’t think that’s such a good idea

Shroom poet says some crazy shit

Think maybe I should give all my money
to the Lighthouse Mission

that would put me out to the edge

Probably not such a good idea neither

I just want to be like Walt Whitman

You know

in love with Everything!

Virginal Indian squaws
gay looking school boys
Christ-like deathbed union soldiers
sagely bearded frontiersmen
shitty American street corner vagrants

whales, spiders, cemetery grass

Everything!

Though if I ever met the man

I’d probably be scared as hell

or just disappointed

Because just like Jesus
no one could really ever be

like everything they said

Just like how I hope someday
some virulent young college-age
neo-hippie fanatic
will show up at a reading of mine

and be disappointed by me

To find I’m not that mountain lion

stalking about in my poems

Just the dial on your stereo
every day fine tuning a little this way
then a little that

trying to get the treble just right

Just the dial on the radio in your car
for a moment
Mahler’s 5th symphony

Adiagietto

A parousia of violins

and then once again nothing

except static

 

Matthew Brouwer is a performance poet, peer mentor, teaching artist, and organizational consultant residing in Bellingham, WA. (To listen to Matthew read the above poem click on Walt Whitman Fantasy)

Copyright © 2012 by Matthew Brouwer