Reading the Little Magazines

March 1, 1975  (I was 30)

Reading the Little Magazines

            (1)

I watch the little poets

in the little magazines

and the talk about

how the fuck like crazy

and drink beer

smoke grass and suffer

as they witness the traffic

they are wandering vehicles

searching for parking places

something they can back into

they drive in the right hand lane

            (2)

I read the little poets

whose correspondence is directed

at one another who know

about America’s misplaced values

talented ones who also suffer

in hospitals rest homes deserts

and on faculties

            (3)

I consume private hours

learning that I am consumed

counting inflated paper currency

insisting upon significance

every moment deposited

on account at the Universal Memory Bank

and Contemplation Savings and Loan

            (4)

The little magazines come out of the mailbox

like letters from distant cousins

who barely dare to know me

letters with lines to read between

and jokes about relatives I’ve never heard of

they do not ask How is the family

they say We’re coming to California

and we hope you can show us around