Pop 2 (Undeniably Famous)

 

Breakings
The breaking and foam jump on beach to fizzle on the hoi
    polloi,
Interlace in matutinal picturesqueness, horizontally
Pointing pointblank at the morning joggers, and blasting at
Increasing, puckery white-tensions                        as those aims aim

On the shoreline. Now blast, now zing, while dried fishing
    villages suffer to boast of tall, tall
Tourists devoting estival conferences with wines and
    gentlewomen, these who—in their turn—are
Innocuously submitting to long-time traditions of
Taking one big-beard boss to beds, be these beds soft or
    bamboo. I’d lay myself on

Sand to be fizzled on, over, by my own now-popular, "teenie-
    weenie"-ly popping bubbles coming conscionably
    forward to (sideways or all ways)
Please my eyes, or advise my ears that hear maidens’ screams
Of Broadway passages and wail without trumpets, hear it
    whenever I see them
Bending over crabs or tuna or shrimps

Eagerly about which they talk and tatter language on aller-
    gies auld and calorie contents.
They wear bikinis, color-tight bikinis on tiptoed pebbles
    over tiptoed sands . . . expensive these were
To my artless old self, only already known to me, as you’d
    say I was wont to watch tv and read
The neighbor’s morning papers. Yet last stormy night I took
    a sleeping pill. Yes,

I didn’t entirely know was one. Y’see, we often crawl to
    cars, to vans—viled by sights of the fabrics of
    discovery—there to see
What we or I can have for all suppers, or suppers for all,
    this while the sweetened dark swellings in
The salt surfs of youth were peaceably breaking upon a
    tightening shore, fleshy one stormy night . . .
    that night. Oh everyone
Swarming on softened sand up to the turnstile-rows at the
    beer stall; had me frightfully sleeping w/ the cold
    oil of the barbecue stand . . . "Hey, it’s a morning
    without rest, boy, it’s back to work," says then the
    owner—woke me.

Sorry
The love I’ve been kissing upon my own dawn awakening! En-
    ergies voidable and all these

Knowings (oh, believe me, it called and whispered softly
    certainty, as if she owned the republic, in the
    publication of such a poem
As this) with sands and concrete, of a concrete’s gold-plat-
    ed desire for each sand purchase, or of rustic peb-
    bles miming the fortune of life : fraught now

            of
                            city-singing;

While traced upon the colored backs of a rusted innocence
    as I may have had were wilfully widowed,

Clawing kitt-fingers (say, now shoo-ed by a golden beard)—
    them now willing to pay + give servitude as slave
    to the

Arts. Oh now too I’ve made our house, nipas fresh and bam-
    booed strong but, sorry, I’ll be out to become
    undeniably famous.

Don’t worry, I’ll visit my village often, oh yes I’ll come
    to visit the folks here often: when the breakings

Jump on beach to fizzle on purpose on the hoi polloi, in
    inviting tourism to crabs, to tuna, to shrimps, e’en
    sharks at the display. Hey, should ms. Philippines
    eat shark, "I’m buying," I’d say. Wake you.

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 1999, 2004 Vicente-Ignacio Soria de Veyra. All rights reserved. Readers are welcome to view, save, file and print out single copies of this webpage for their personal use. No reproduction, display, performance, multiple copy, transmission, or distribution of the work herein, or any excerpt, adaptation, abridgment or translation of same, may be made without written permission from the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this work will be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

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