April 6-12, 2009: Brendan Kirk and E. Amato

week of April 6-12, 2009: 

Brendan Kirk and E Amato

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Brendan Kirk
quickscan490@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Brendan Kirk, age 17, hails from his mother’s house [Long Island, New York], and sometimes fills runaway back-packs with clothes and books inside his mind He likes it when people talk about the stars and Freudian defense mechanisms, and is often accused of being a hippie.

The following work is Copyright © 2009, and owned by Brendan Kirk and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


observations written today

i
teacher from the tonguey fringes of history

strange cowboys of the night
wreckless and
afraid to think

tightness looking for attention

children born into charisma and innocence
with large eyes
tabulating the costs
and sleeping at night

quiet corners
where quiet children hum to themselves
and talk to themselves
and dream

young men

a red head
who writes poems
wants to be out west
but to make mommy proud
stays in school

unhappy beings who think of death

young beauty
who spends money on clothing
to look the part

another young beauty
who talks when asked not to
because she is young beauty

girl drawing fairies with pencils and papers
wearing corset because she likes the way it looks

young man singing in the hallway

kids out there in the rooms working hard for numbers
who want to go to good college
make good money
have good spouse
have good death

other kid who wants to find reason in all of it

small string of girls who accept an alternate

young man with kittens
who comes with eyes of fire
looking to prove something

conglomerations of minds in the distance
slowly tapping their feet to pass time

hardcore group of cannibalist females
copying each other
and eating stray bits of flesh left on the floor
dropped by those who realized it was not worth it

bizarre girl with glasses
who likes being bizarre girl with glasses

boy with shaved head who likes bizarre girl with glasses
because she likes being bizarre girl with glasses

boy with long black hair
quiet with precision

young man who sells small bags of reefer
and buys an image shaded in sunglasses

young girl listening to music in mind
writing down work with her hand
fidgeting her feet

waves of backbone
rising through the root
and into alternate state of consciousness

boy telling everybody what they want to hear

girl hoping for subtle satisfaction
in her work

young boy wishing to be man
and to bang on chest
and to eat hamburg with beer
and to have sex with wife
and to teach children how to tie knots

slow words of children sitting in desks
with light eyes

and none really want to be here
and i don’t want to be here
and i am here
and i don’t want to be here

this mess of hemispheres

who are not finding the point to this craziness

who have realized that it is all just some words
and that it is all just some words
some words

ii
soft sun rises from line of trees
chirping of distanced bird through ears
still a snap of chill in the air
it will be warm soon

deer across the drive

silently
eyes closed

iii
men with faces of stiletto
shaded voice
long pony-tail
who at poetry workshop
tell old ladies how to make poems better

i do not understand that ts eliot poem

sorry mother i may have to disappear for a while

my mind is wet
and to write it hurts

should i cut my hair?
or just go with this next wave of counter-culture
bound to come
and bound to whittle and to end
because drugs bring pleasure
and nobody wants to talk anymore
and being radical is cliché these days

apparitions of souls gliding reflections over shallow pools

iv
i get drunk and talk to friend about life
i remember when i wake up
and feel enlightened
then forget it

v
my bed smells of sweat
mother there is a bottle of whiskey in the drawer where i keep my shirts

vi
old men seek simplicity
young men to be known
mark twain writes something about it i think

and i learn more from paperback novels and smoking marijuana than school

a few of my favorite people are dead

is there inspiration in the wind?
or am i just too young

is the answer in shroud?

what is to be healed?

vii
odd children caring for status
in the lunch-room
moving in for a proper ‘hoooo’

looking into the stars

i am young i am young
i shall walk off when the weather is warm
and when i hear the chirp of a bird
i shall myself sing

E Amato
eamato@mac.com

Bio (auto)

E Amato is a writer, performance poet, filmmaker, director, and producer New Yorker by birth and temperament, she cultivated an uneasy alliance with 21st Century Los Angeles, where she was creator and host of Down Home, a poetry and music series A featured performer at venues from Edinburgh to Berkeley, she is currently exploring new places with words

The following work is Copyright © 2009, and owned by E Amato and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Opening

my hands
are no substitute for your hands
low light candles and even incense
no substitute for your voice
scaling my peaks

I want to be naked all the time now the air does not love me like you do
but still
I want what I want:

opening onto you fully lotused
the dream before sleep
the taste upon waking